The end of all things
by MelodyHolmes
Summary: Molly feels unappreciated when she finally speaks up for herself she realises maybe she should have kept quite. sherlolly rated m for later chapters. please r&r
1. Chapter 1

The end of all things – Melody holmes I don't own anything purely for fun. Please r&r.

Molly had always suspected that there was passion behind his ice cool exterior but never anything like this.

Chapter 1

The beginning.

Everything was back to normal, too much so. The lab its bright white walls shining under the heavy florescent lights. All her instruments lay out in front of her. A job on hand as she glanced at the corpse of Harry Wainwright but her mind was racing. Why had he not come to see her, he was back the whole world knew. She remembered the headline in the times. Bofin Sherlock holmes has risen a hero from the dead. It had taken him a year to find all the men in Moriarty's crime syndicate now most rotting in jail or a few in the ground. The last had been Moran a cruel calculating man who had been sent to kill john.

She remembered the first phone call from John at the news of Sherlock's return.

"You kept this from me all this time." The accusation clear. She heard it in his voice. John had always been polite and kind to her and this tone hurt. She liked john and could not bear him being disappointed in her.

"Jo. John, I couldn't t. tell you. I re. Really wanted to" stuttering her apologies, didn't give him chance to continue babbling on about how she knew he could be in danger and hadn't wanted anything to happen to him. She was crying now.

"Molly, Molly please, don't cry. O.k. I'm sorry that was harsh. I'm just reeling that's all." Always the gentleman he never wanted to make a lady cry. She sniffed trying to regain control of herself. After a short chat they hung up. That was three months ago and she hadn't seen either of them since.

Staring at her hands she sighed was she ever going to get over him. She just couldn't seem to get her head round him. Making her small hands into fist she beat them down on the surface of her workspace. Spreading her fingers on the cool surface she struggled with her feeling, she did not notice the doors open.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid. Standing around like an idiot. You have work to do Molly Hooper." She ground through her teeth. Raising her eyes to look at the image of herself reflecting back from the storage door.

She looked tired worn to the bone. Eyes circled with dark flesh. How long had she been working. Looking at her small watch, fourteen hours.

"Right, there's only one thing for it, music!" reaching over she turned on her C.d when a man loves a woman. Arrrrrrgh she screamed in her head if only. Turning back to the man on her slab she chose her favorite scalpel.

Singing lightly

"When a man loves a woman. He can't keep his mind on nothing else. He'd trade the world for the good thing he's found." That made her smile.

Behind her Sherlock holmes stood aghast at the singing pathologist. After her small outburst where she declared herself stupid. He had decided to wait for her to calm but now as she sang and swayed to the music and he was unsure of his approach. The music changed to Kiss by Tom Jones and the dancing started Molly Hooper could dance, even more she could grind. With every passing moment the good Doctor became more abandoned. Hips and knees swishing and sliding in perfect rhythm. Even when they had briefly shared her room she had just flitted around him like an annoying butterfly. Never had he seen her so free. He noted almost at once, circles under her eyes working for 14 hours' smudge of concealer where she had tried to cover the dark rings only to rub it off after her third autopsy. Coffee stain on the cuff of her lab coat three cups. Dressed in a pale grey pair of trousers and a light blue top ballet pumps in the same colour, heavily worn. Hair washed this morning with coconut shampoo he noted as the scent floated over to him when she swished her long hair around her. He liked that smell it was his favorite on her, what! where had that come from.

He coughed lightly and she stiffened so straight as if called to attention. She turned the music off with a quick flick.

"Ho. How long have you been here?" she stuttered. She knew that sound, would know it even in a million years his low baritone cough when he demanded attention. Blushing furiously to the roots of her hair remaining resolutely facing away from him. Her heartbeat tripled sweat beaded on her head and all thought went straight out of the window. How could one man have this effect on her? She shook her head trying to make one wandering thought stay in her head. Her hands shook.

"Long enough" indifference coated every word. "You dance well." He added a quick compliment at the end.

"Right, what do you need Sherlock" oh no that sounded so much like the last time de ja vu all over again.

The last words had not gone unnoticed by him, as always looking out for his needs. He was unsure why this felt comforting to know that she would always be there to help. Sentiment, clouded judgment and thought and he had no use for it. Shaking of the feelings she still hadn't faced him and he wondered why so he asked.

"I have been in the room twelve minutes and twenty second, having made my presence known you still have not turned to face me, why?"

Oh there are a few reasons she thought to herself, one as soon as I turn I will blush at the mere sight of you, two I will have to look you in the eyes an see once again that I don't count, now I've helped you and lastly I will get lost in the plains of your face and the ice blue of your eyes. She didn't know which was worse.

"I I just have to concentrate on this case." She said lowering her head hoping he believed the outright lie. She recovered the body knowing what was to come, his cold eyes deducing every action.

Head down, shoulders slumped obviously a lie, that's new Molly never lied. Especially to him she must know he would see through it. He could see her start to fidget. Uncomfortable, well that's nothing new he seemed to have that effect on her oh yes he knew she liked him more than like in fact. "Molly why are you lying?" his voice stern and demanding. He stood straight waiting for a reply. She continued to stare holes into the floor before straightening her back still to him.

"GO!" she all but screamed. She just wanted him to leave. Leave her alone in her morgue, with her dead. Clutching her hands on the gurney in front of her she screwed her eyes together willing the tears away, she just couldn't take anymore. The false charm the kind words just so she would bend to his will she couldn't do it anymore. She was broken. She didn't hear him move at all.

"Fine I'll go." So she gathered herself together. Stood straight and left. As soon as the door to the morgue shut the tears started free falling. So much pain caused by him so much anguish. She knew now she would never be anything to him apart from a tool to be used at his whim. She forced her headphones brutally into her ears and turned on her music her heart fell Sara Bareilles – gravity. Ripping them back out she ran as fast as she could to get away. It was awful she had waited for him to turn up and now that he had she didn't want to see him.

Sherlock had no idea what had just happened. He tried to process the information but came up with too many blanks to form a conclusion. Just as he was about to follow her John walked in carrying three coffees. "What the hell did you say to her this time?" he asked voice exasperated. For once he had no answer. He explained all that had transpired to John hoping that he may have a better answer than the one he was forming in his own mind.

"Sherlock when did you last speak to her?" John asked his tone was worried and his eyes wide. "Why does that matter?" he stated dumbfounded. "Sherlock she helped you fake your death. Probably illegally, she could have lost her job and you're telling me that since your return you haven't contacted her once not even a text. I'm surprised she just ran out I'd have thrown the scalpels at you." John glared at his friends insensitivity. He watched as the light went on behind his friends eyes

"MOLLY!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. His coat disappearing around the door. John rushing behind in his wake.

Chapter 2

She had run so hard her sides where splitting. Clutching her arms around herself she continued to walk passing people who didn't even notice a woman crying. She found herself in Hyde Park and she breathed easy in the knowledge that he'd never find her here. Sitting on an old worn bench she wept bitter tears into her hands. It started to rain but she didn't care soaking her down to the skin. The torrential down pour flattened her loose hair; turning her face to the sky she allowed the rain to wash her stinging face. Gasping she lay on the bench curling into herself. Viewing the park in front of her happy couples walking hand in hand in the rain, workers rushing to and from trying to stay as dry as possible, a group of idiotic girls giggling while they looked at her she had no emotions left to feel abashed.

She didn't know how long she lay there as the rain poured. She closed her eyes against the rivers running down her face. She didn't rest just lay there, no thoughts nothing crossed her mind just a deep well of sadness. Even then his face floated behind her eyes and she could no longer bear her love for him and she did love him now more than ever. She opened her sore eyes to be confronted with a grey frock coat, a blue scarf and blue piercing eyes. She couldn't even move he was speaking but she couldn't hear him. Staring blankly at him just taking all she could in. He lifted her into his arms, she was shivering when had that started she couldn't recall the cold. She saw the concerned look on Johns face but she was gone there was nothing left inside her to feel.

"Molly!" he yelled across the park. It had taken him an abnormally long time to figure out where she had gone to. They had checked her apartment, the pub at the corner of her street. Where could she have gone, heading back to St Bart's he started fresh when he heard a group of giggling girls laughing about the lady lying on a bench crying in Hyde Park. He was off running again. Then there she was a fragile figure curled up. His stomach flipped he'd never seen anything so helpless. Guilt he knew that feeling he'd experienced it before where Molly was concerned, that Christmas was burned into his memory. It had its own room in his palace. Striding over to her she opened her eyes to look up at him. Her eyes were blank.

"Molly I'm sorry" he said in a clear voice and to his surprise just like Christmas he meant it. She didn't respond just kept looking at him. Sighing he lifted her small form into his arms. She was shaking violent tremors wracked her body she was freezing. unconsiously she clung to him.

He could see now the blue tint to her small lips the ashen color to her usually rosy cheeks. Her eyes glassy as tears continued to fall. He couldn't see any of her bubble personality behind them just hurt. He had not realized that he could cause someone this amount of hurt he always seemed to get it wrong when it came to Molly. She screwed her eyes tight shut not wanting him to see. Carrying her to the main street John hailed a cab. He held the door open as his friend sat in the cab with molly still in his arms. Laying back into the seat he cradled her to him, he could feel the water soaking through from her through his coat. The shivering hadn't stop nor had she opened her eyes. She felt tiny in his arms an to his surprised and consternation he found he enjoyed having her pressed to him. That worried him where had these sudden thoughts come from.

"221b Baker Street" he ordered the cabbie.

Chapter3

The ride was short lived. John whipped round to Sherlock's side opening the door as his friend carried Molly into their flat. He raced up the stairs after him he feared that Molly was suffering from slight hypothermia. Her lips were blue and she still hadn't stopped shivering. Her breath came in short gasps. Sherlock lay her gently on their sofa. Sherlock started removing her wet clothes.

"Sherlock, I'll do that" he stated moving his friend away sure that Molly would not want him to be the one to undress her. Sherlock made no comment and left for his room returning seconds later with an armful of clothes and his second best dressing gown.

"Molly, Molly can you hear me." John whispered near her face "Molly I'm going to have to remove your clothes you're soaked through."

Molly's eyes shot open she didn't want to get undressed anywhere near him. "No!" she almost screamed everything coming back to her in one moment. She wrenched herself in to seating position. Her eyes wide, she went to stand, to leave she didn't want to be anywhere where he was. In a moment though he was at her side a warm hand pressing her lightly back into the seat. He kneeled by her, her mouth opened like a goldfish. He never prostrated himself in front of anyone. "Molly, stay. It has been brought to my attention that I have been rather remiss in my treatment of you." he stated. "As it is. I apologize most sincerely."

"John, leave." John huffed, feeling like he was being sent to the naughty corner but he left closing the door silently behind him.

"Molly" his voice sounded soft, warm even. "I have ignored you over the last few weeks I can only apologize; it was not my intent to hurt you feelings. As I have stated before you count. You always will." He grimaced around the word feelings. He hated feelings but was shocked at the power they had over him. When he had seen her laying so feebly on the bench a shocking stab of protectiveness came over him. It hurt him to see her so crushed. Sentiment he almost seethed the word in his mind, he was never one for friends or feelings but they were there all the same. Placing a hand round her face he spoke once more

"I have asked your forgiveness once before and graciously you did. I hope you will again, forgive me."

Damn this man damn him, he had her at "Molly". She couldn't help it hope returned to her. Warmth spread back into her heart, his words placing the shattered pieces back into place. She couldn't deny him anything. Oh god how sentimental she was, she hated it and she wanted to hate him to loathe him but she couldn't it wasn't who she was. She sighed why did he always bring her defenses down. _**He's Sherlock that's **__**why **_she thought. His eyes were searching her face, she decided to play a little letting her face fall her mouth turn down, she knew he couldn't read emotions. He bit his lip unsure.

"Molly, please" he pleaded. She couldn't help it she grinned fully. The sparkle returned to her eyes she released a giggle. His eyes hardened to ice, his face fell.

Molly, little Molly Hooper had fooled him it may have only been for a moment but it still irked him. In that moment he had felt his stomach drop to the floor, he was sure he had lost her completely. When her face fell, it did something inside his chest he felt an almost crippling pain at the thought. He rolled his eyes. "Molly, get changed" he ordered sulking closing his eyes only to snap them open again as he heard her resounding laugh. He stood and sauntered off to his room slamming the door behind him.

Left in the living room she regained control of herself. She sat uncomfortable in wet clothes sighing she stood removing her coat and cardigan. She was soaked down to the skin. She grabbed the pile of clothes, as quickly as she could she changed. He had brought her pair of his pajamas, black with silver trim his blue dressing gown now draping over her shoulders. She looked like a kid dressed in her dads clothes. She stood for a minute until finally she kicked her sodden shoes off instantly she felt better. John's head popped back around the door and smiled at her

"Is he done then?" he asked.

"I think he's sulking in his room." She answered her voice shaking a little as the rest of the cold left her. "Nothing unusual there" he grinned back "What did you say to his highness?"

"Nothing I just let him think for a moment that I didn't forgive him but I couldn't hold in a grin." She stated simply.

John laughed. Sherlock hated to be fooled even just for a second. He silently congratulated her by placing a hand on her arm "I'm glad you're better." He stated.

Chapter 4

He lay on his bed his mind racing all this was so new. He tried to focus but to no avail his mind kept slipping back to her, her eyes in those last seconds, they had glowed with mirth and forgiveness. He hadn't left sulking because his pride was injured he had in fact gotten over that almost instantly. It was however the fact that when he had looked into her eyes he had felt at home, home in her eyes. He didn't want to but he couldn't stop that feeling it was like a vine spreading through his mind. He steepled his fingers trying to regain his usual composure. Slipping his eyes closed he was assaulted by her image, every image in the lab that he had ever had of her, her coy glances at him. The pain in her eyes at that Christmas. He tossed, turned even smothered his face in his pillows. Just washed, new conditioner traces of perfume where Mrs. Hudson had rubbed her wrists over it in her efforts at straightening them out. Interesting even with his mind occupied with Molly he was still able to deduce.

There was a quite knock on the door; he ignored it knowing who it was. He heard the sigh outside. The whispered "Do you think he's fallen asleep?" her voice concerned. He heard johns reply, well who couldn't he almost yelled it. "No he's just being an arse!" Molly giggled and he scowled. Silently she opened the door; he refused to look curling up on one side facing his book shelves.

"Yes" he drawled. Rolling his eyes he heard her approach his pajama bottoms dragging along the floor.

He looked so approachable just lying there facing away. She dared a little and approached the side of the bed. His bedroom a lovely green, the bed was huge mahogany. Pushing herself a little further she sat on the corner of his bed. If was comfortable but firm. She noticed him stiffen. This was going to be difficult she could tell.

"Sherlock" she reached over a hand hovering over his shoulder. He didn't move, didn't respond. She got annoyed now, why couldn't he just for one act normal and accept an apology.

"Sherlock" she spoke with more power to her voice. She touched him then, felt his muscle tighten then relax, she pulled him to face her. Surprise registered on his face for just a second obviously he never thought she would be so bold. She blushed how she hated the unconscious reaction.

"Sherlock, will you just for once accept an apology, with good grace." She asked exasperated.

He sat up so fast she jumped back startled. God he could move quickly, viper like she almost didn't register the movement. His eyes were wild she had never seen such a look behind them before, like fire. His pupils dilated fully, she gasped his face was almost savage. She felt like running but she was frozen shocked to the core. Instead she slowly stood.

"Sherlock are you o.k.?" she asked had she really hurt his pride that much he looked furious. His eyes calmed and back in place was his old cold, calculating glare. She could still see it though under the surface the feral gleam hadn't completely left his eyes. It was there in the tilt of his mouth and the lines of his face. "I'm fine Molly." He lied.

"No you're not." She challenged holding herself straighter. She knew him better than that.

He was taken aback, how could she know. He had placed his mask back on when he saw her grow frightened of his outburst.

"Tell me what's wrong?" and there it was again the words from so many months ago, her concern. Why did she care so much he never gave her reason to? Yet there it was the worry in her eyes the almost out stretched fingers. He suddenly wondered what it would be like to have those fingers in his hair. He shook away the thought, appalled with himself. He had never had to struggle with himself before. Always certain of what he wanted and emotions were not part of it. He looked at her not knowing how to reply for the first time ever he was speechless. Then without warning she swept towards him pulling him into her arms laying her head on top of his. "Its o.k." she soothed. Planting a light kiss on his head. He just sat there enveloped arms by his sides and for one moment one unbelievable moment his rushing thoughts stopped nothing not one thought in his head.

Looking up he was lost. Her face tilted down to his, he lifted his hands to her face the wildness creeping backing in as he took her face roughly in his hands an placed his lips on hers. Possessive and hungry he ravished her mouth.

_**I think this is how it would go, he has a fiery personality. His out bursts are passionate and unguarded. If anything were to happen it would be in one of those moments. **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 5**

No, no, no this is not good Molly this man is seriously detrimental to you mental health. Her mind chided itself. She just didn't care he was kissing her with fire a passion unrivaled. She ran her fingers through his dark curls. Oh how could any ones hair feel like silk? The stray strands curled around her slender fingers as she delved deeper learning the texture of each individual hair. She moaned his lips were warm and strong; tentively she flicked her tongue out to taste him. He tasted wonderful rich and dark, coffee and something that was unmistakably Sherlock. He growled into her mouth, the sound sent shivers up her back. Her every nerve ending ignited. Fireworks exploded behind her eyes. If this is what happened at a mere kiss, she couldn't fathom what would happen if it went further.

He nipped at her lower lip, dueled with her tongue. Her gasps set a fire in his veins, his kisses became frantic almost painful. It was a hard kiss full of years upon years of repression. As if it was shredding his walls, his carefully constructed cage. Now he let loose untamed and unsanctioned, burying his hands in her hair he pulled her flush against him. When had he stood he couldn't recall but he now towered over her. Need burned low in his stomach knotting and threading through his whole system. Grunts, growls and soft moans mingled together. She tasted like honey and mint and a warmth that was entirely her own. Running his deft fingers through her still damp hair he noted its texture, how often she washed it, the brand of shampoo she used and how long it had been since she had last had it trimmed. At that moment all those little things didn't matter there was only need.

Molly was about to push Sherlock on to the bed, her hands flat on is muscled chest. She could feel the definition with her fingertips an athlete's body. She almost sighed in anticipation. She was so caught up in the moment she didn't hear the knock at the door until Sherlock pushed her away from him as another knock came. She briskly turned away and stood in front of the small window afraid to turn round and look at him.

John entered and surveyed the room. Molly was stood arms crossed in front of the window her face turned from him, not a good sign. He then turned his attention on his friend and was shocked by what he saw. His friends shirt was rumpled his hair a curly mess on top of his head. The most shocking revelation was his eyes and mouth, his usually cool eyes were exceptionally bright and wide and his lips were blood red and full. They looked almost raw but it couldn't be he looked as if he'd had been ravished. John stood stunned it was true he could see it Sherlock looked as if he'd just been caught doing something naughty by his farther. John's mouth hung open as he silently asked his friend what had gone on. Sherlock looked suitable abashed.

John coughed "Just wondering if you two would like some tea?"

"No thank you John" Sherlock answered.

"I would!" Molly said rushing out into the kitchen.

John held up a hand as Sherlock went to follow her, he wanted to know exactly what was going on and he wanted to know now.

"Explain now?" he warned. He liked Molly she was sweet and kind and wouldn't let Sherlock mess with her affections in this way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 6**

Sherlock stood embarrassed before his friend. His brow furrowed and his eyes mere slits of cool blue. Tormented between explaining the inexplicable to John or pushing past to reclaim the tempting mouth of the shy pathologist. Who by all means wasn't as shy as she seemed. She had been a full participant in that's scorching kiss, giving fully and demanding the same in returned. He could still feel those warm lips parting under the pressure of his own. The taste of lust still lingered consuming him insisting on further contacted. The twitch in his underwear was proof of his arousal. Her silky skin brushing his and her hands raking through his hair sending sparks through his skull and down his slender neck. His mind racing as he committed each sensation to a new room in his mind palace, right next door to the one marked Molly Hooper. Her door was unlike any in his palace most were dull grey and dotted with notes explaining what was inside. Apart from John, Mrs. Hudson and Lastrade, Molly's was the only other to have color. Johns a deep green, Mrs. Hudson a dark purple and Lastrade was royal blue but Molly's her door was covered in a rainbow of color. His mind was racing, cataloging. What had happened, he had kissed Molly Hooper. He never kissed anyone ever!

There had been an intangible snap somewhere in his head. Lust, want and something else had risen inside of him and he had no idea how to deal with it, the logical course of action was to delete it from his memory. He tried the feelings stayed refusing to budge. The aching need settled deep in his stomach reminding his of the possessive need to simply reach out for the first time in his life. He stiffened at the sudden realization that his first kiss had been with Molly Hooper, his mousy pathologist. STOP! His mousy pathologist when had she become HIS! He paled how had the happened when had sentiment crept in. No, he could not allow this he wanted rid of it.

"Sherlock! An answer NOW?" Johns voice demanding pulling him from his thoughts to looked eyes wide at the man in front of him. Johns eyes were tight his lips pulled down at the corners showing clearly his displeasure. Hands balled into fists at his side, his back straight staring him down. Conclusion John wanted answers and wasn't leaving until he had gotten them. How to explain it was beyond his rational mind, he had never experienced this before and was at a loss for word and singularly rare circumstance.

How best to phrase the altogether foreign and out of character occurrence of the last few minutes. Steeling himself to simply tell the truth, he breathed in a long and calming breath closing his eyes and taking a moment to compose himself. On release his looked his friend straight in the eye.

"Obviously John I have in fact kissed Doctor Molly Hooper. After she attempted to apologize to me for her jest. A surge of hormones presently made themselves apparent, without thought I gave into the surge and kissed her soundly. To which she responded amorously before you interruption." Sherlock stated plainly at his usual train of inner thought, leaving john to gape open mouthed at him. His brown eyes questioning Sherlock's sanity.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 7**

Molly switched the kettle on as she passed without actually seeing what she was doing. Touching her trembling fingers to her now sore plump lips. Emotions warring inside her, part of her wanted to sing and dance down the street. She giggled she had just snogged Sherlock Holmes and it was very, very good. Part of her was curious as to the reason behind the kiss and the biggest part was terrified how was she going to face him. Oh god she just knew he'd give her that look the dismissing one the one that made her feel ten years old. Brushing her hair away from her face, the damp locks sticking to her flushed cheeks. Just recalling that kiss sent her face the deepest shade of scarlet. She ran her hands over the work tops scanning the many scientific apparatus littering the space. Bubbling beakers of viscous fluids concoctions simmering gently. She wondered briefly, what was he working on.

Finding herself gently padding around the living room. It was interesting every nook and cranny was stuff full of interesting items an old map of London curled up and stuffed into a hole. A spread bat and insects littered in their cases. How did he keep track of all this stuff? Making her way over to the mantle she looked over the human skull yellowing with age.

"Well you've done it now Molly." She huffed the skull grinning softly back at her. Its eye sockets mocking her. It was kind of soothing to talk to the skull; she wondered whether that was why Sherlock had it.

"Woo hoo Sherlock dear." Called Mrs. Hudson from the door way. The dear old land lady surveyed the room.

"Oh dear what a mess you've made." She turned to molly a accusing look in her eyes which soften when she realized that it wasn't Sherlock looking back at her.

"Oh sorry Molly dear. I thought you were Sherlock then. Molly, why are you wearing Sherlock's things?" After a short explanation she smiled nodding.

"Those clothes are sopping let me dry them for you. Nice of Sherlock to lend you his second best dressing gown and his best pajamas I see." She winked, oh dear Molly thought I hope she doesn't suspect.

"I'll pop down an put them in the dryer for you. Just this once mind." She said leaving the room.

"T. Thank you that w. would be lovely." Molly called after her a no problem whispered back up the stairs.

It was then Molly realized that Mrs. Hudson had taken her only means of escape. Oh dear.

Please, please, please John keep him in there till Mrs. Hudson comes back with my clothes. Molly prayed pacing round the living room, it wasn't lost on her that this is how she found Sherlock most of the time. She was formulating a idea she would dry her clothes as quickly as possible while John and Sherlock talked. She would change her clothes, fold his leaving them on the coffee table and leave and avoid him like the plague for the rest of her life. I'll move to China, no America he'll never look for me there. Then a odd thought popped into her mind, did she really want to run or did she wish to stay. To take all the pleasure she could in spite of the pain later. Maybe just maybe she could find his elusive heart.

She needed a plan!


	5. Chapter 5

I wish to say a huge thank you to all of my reviewer's murmeltierchen, conception, wholocked fan 13, hellscrimsonangel, angeleene, beautyqueen24, mione w.g, ann, nocturnias and sexy knickers there all so lovely thank you. Keep reading it's going to get more interesting.

**Please keep reviewing it helps me write.**

**Chapter 8**

Sherlock waited a good three minutes for some reaction from John but none came he just stared blankly at him. So he relapsed from sentiment and did what he did best, he deduced his friend. Elevated pulse indicating a heightened emotional state, furrowed brow worried. He also noted the dark rings and redness of the eyes obviously had a night out with Kelly was it of Christine. Hands placed deeply into pocket so he didn't spend the night or his hands would be relaxed at his side. Right hand balled into fist belaying his frustration and anger. He waited for the tirade to begin.

"YOU! YOU! You Kissed her. Just like that? Have you lost your mind?" John's yell became a whisper at the end. "Sherlock Holmes does not kiss people; especially people he knows are head over heels for them. What were you thinking?" his breaths coming in gasps as he tried to keep his voice under control. Sherlock notice the curling and uncurling of his only friend's right hand. Maintaining his self control he was impressed he'd expected a punch to the jaw by now for his behavior.

"Yes I kissed her, didn't you hear me?" He said in his usual caustic manner. A thought then struck him, he hadn't been thinking at the time. He began to pace in front of his friend, he Sherlock Holmes had not been thinking from the moment his lips had met hers.

So caught up in his revelation he had not been paying attention to anything John was saying. Uh um he replied to whatever John had just asked "Sherlock!" His tone made him stop he knew if he didn't answer carefully the fist that was still convulsing would certainly hit his face. The doctor had mercy on him he knew what he was like when thinking and so repeated his query. "What do you mean you weren't thinking?" only then did Sherlock that he'd been saying this aloud.

"I wasn't thinking when I kissed Molly. I not think. I have always thought, deduced it never stops. Yet when my lips first met Molly's all thought vanished, what is that?" continuing his small parade circle. His mind when through all the fact, all the chemical reactions associated with kissing and physical factors and surges.

Nothing came close to explaining the lack of his thought process at the time.

He stopped in front of his wardrobe mirror to analyze himself. The dark wood was a warm contrast to the pale green wall. The door slightly ajar, he almost didn't recognize his own feature reflecting back to him. His lips a deep red and his eyes were huge not his usual slits. Then he saw something that stopped his heart, his pupils were completely dilated. Reasons for pupil dilation raced through his mind illness but he wasn't sick, low lighting the curtains were wide open and sexual attraction. With that as his only conclusion he wanted to scream and rage. He didn't feel these things, he wouldn't, couldn't he'd divorced himself from them a long time ago. As with the hound his body was betraying him again. He had no choice but to admit it to himself he was attracted to Molly Hooper.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" his blue eyes turned back to his friend. "What are you going to do, I won't let you carelessly hurt Molly she deserves better." John stated keeping eye contact. Sherlock's eyes narrowed at his friends protectiveness, did John Watson too have feeling for Molly. The thought made his gut churn, was that jealousy, was he Sherlock jealous, John would be better for her. He was caring and giving and he wasn't.

"John, do you have feeling for Molly Hooper?" he snapped, his voice a low rumble. John was taken aback, his eyes widened did he have feelings for Molly? Immediately the voice in his head said yes he did she was his friend. He knew that wasn't what Sherlock was asking and was a little concerned by the menace he saw in his friend's eyes. Sherlock had fallen for mousy Molly Hooper and hadn't realized it yet. John could have laughed.

"Yes Sherlock I have feelings for her she my friend." Sherlock visibly relaxed his eyes calmed and back was a look for uncertainty a rare look on his friends face. "So what are you going to do now?" John asked unsure of the reply he would get, but with this Sherlock left into the kitchen


	6. Chapter 6

Please forgive the late update this one was hard to write. Big thanks to Murmeltierchen helping me make a rather hard choice in plot line to many good ideas not enough time. So here we go Molly's plan starts to form.

**Chapter 9**

She couldn't help it now she had kissed him her imagination went into overdrive, god did she want to do it again. Before she had only allowed herself the image of kissing Sherlock and now she had all manner of things racing through her once peaceful thoughts. Would everything be that intense, the fire brand of a kiss still burning her lips. Would it be fiery but short lived or a slow torturous burn. She sat upon the sofa curling her legs up by her side as images leapt through her over crowded brain. Sherlock's hands in her hair, his lips on hers and his tongue searching and demanding. Sherlock doing other things with those long, strong, nimble fingers. She felt her face heat and giggled. Thank goodness he can't read minds.

All her memories of him played in her mind's eye. The weeks he spent hiding in her house. He hadn't spoken for the first three days causing her to worry that maybe he'd never speak again. On the second week she had gone to his funeral and had received a wonderful surprise. She had expected it to be a small gathering but the church was brimming over. There was of course John, Mrs. Hudson, Lastrade, Donovan and even Anderson. There were other faces some she recognized others she didn't. Henry Knight had travelled up from Dart moor. There was also Mrs. Farintosh and Miss Helen Stoner from Stoke Moran and Angelo from Sherlock's favorite restaurant. Three geeky looking teens sat near the back with sergeant Dimmock. In the back row on her own stood a lady wearing a heavy veil, her fifties dress flattering her figure and her high heels top of the range. Her blood red nails swept under her veil to wipe unseen tears. She had decided to take a photo wanting to show Sherlock how many lives he had touched. She hadn't had the chance for when she arrived home he was gone.

Practically throwing herself down on to the sofa she let her eye close allowing the memories to consume her. Every memory she had the sweep of his coat, the bounce of his hair and the electric glint in his eyes when he was working. Those eyes despite their paleness they were so full of life. That smile weather it was the false on that went along with his empty compliments or the true smile when he had figured out a puzzle. The first ever meeting in the lab till today, she was surprised that she had remembered all those meetings. She smiled the perfect plan coming to mind, now all she had to do was convince her accomplices. The day and all its events had taken its toll on her and she could feel herself drift off encompassed by his scent. She felt protected by his closeness nothing could touch her here.

Sherlock's eyes roved over the room noting as he did so, the disturbed dust along the counter where Molly must have run her hands while observing his research. The kettle still hot from a recent boil. Wear pattern in the carpet pile she had paced for a while coming to stand before the mantle and the skull in particular. He was determined to talk to her; he would try to be kind in letting her know that the incident would not be repeated. That it was nothing more than a heightened chemical reaction and meant nothing. Even as he thought this a small part of him told him it was lie something had changed. He refused to heed the small voice instead he forced it back behind his logic. He scanned now for the lady in question to find her asleep on the couch. His stomach flipped; seeing her so peaceful the urge came back at once he wanted to wrap himself round her protect her. Instead he sat in his normal chair, he should wake her get her to leave so he could work this out in his mind palace and they could return to normal. John entered noticing Molly and small pleased smile flitted across his features. "I guess she's had enough excitement for today." Sherlock scowled and John sat in his own chair smiling.

His mind raced as he sat in complete silence while John whistled. Why couldn't he wake her it was the logical and reasonable thing to do but watching her sleep he was loathed to wake her. He had rarely seen her so peaceful the only other time he had seen this expression was when she was working. It was more than that she had changed seemed stronger, ever since that night, the night he had asked for her help she had bloomed. Showing a innerstrength that was highly comendable. when they had lived briefly together she did flit around him but she was just concerned about his mental welfare. Her face was set in a small pout as she slept made her face endearing. No. NO, NO! He would not, could not let his mind be infiltrated with such useless thoughts. He grabbed the laptop from the desk, he NEEDED a case. Nothing not one request, people still believed the papers and were not quick trust him, even though he was proven right. Lastrade had once again agreed clearance for him and John. He checked his phone hoping he had called. Nothing, he felt his temper climb in a moment he threw the offending item across the room startling John. "Wha. Sherlock!" he stopped the following explanative looking over at Molly.

Molly had woken up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 10**

Warm brown eyes met with the cool blue of Sherlock's. Molly recognized the look immediately. The look of regret, she had expected it, of course he would not to reveal he actually had emotions of any sort. It still stung but she had plan all she had to do was follow it. It was her last shot; if it didn't work she had to move on. She was tired of living on edge. She stood squaring her shoulder taking in a cleansing breath.

"Sherlock." She said briskly, his brow furrowing at her tone. She pulled up every ounce of courage, right from the tips of her toes, through her body and into her mouth.

"Well that was an interesting experiment wasn't it?" She stated deadpanned. Her mind roving over her plan.

"I don't think a continuation will be necessary do you? No, didn't think so. Well I'll just pop down to Mrs. Hudson to see if my clothes are dry?" she said in a bright and cheerful voice, almost a sing song voice some might say. She went for the door. She felt strong, stronger than she had ever felt before. Had one kiss had such a reaction on her part? She felt like a new women.

John stopped her while Sherlock sat stunned and silent in his chair. Probably thinking it had become a three patch problem.

"Molly, are you alright?" John asked in concern he had never heard her speak so unemotionally before in all the time they had know each other. She knew she sounded off. She wasn't stuttering for once, she was resolute and for one brief moment confident. Turning to John with her usual sparkling smile in place, happy, she had silenced the great Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm fine John. Just realizing that heated kisses are highly overrated. They don't have and finesse about them; they're nice but lack feeling to them. I'd much prefer to be kissed with emotion not like a wet fish. Sherlock, do stop smoking." She knew this was a complete lie, the kiss had been outstanding and as with everything else he did was extraordinarily well done. Sherlock's face contorted into a mask of fury, absently she though, if only I had a camera. The look was priceless and exactly what she was hoping for. He may hide it and hide it well but there was emotion there. Mentally she cheered herself, Molly one Sherlock yet to score.

Reaching for the handle after tearing her eyes from Sherlock's face she noticed John gaping at her. Smiling sweetly she leaned in and planted a kiss on his right cheek, tenderly touching left cheek. Out of the corner of her eye she saw HIS fingers clench. Maybe this might work after all. The cool metal of the door handle had slid silently downward as the door opened for her, she almost ran straight into Mrs. Hudson in her haste.

"Ah Molly dear, you clothes are ready." The old lady smiled.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson may I change at yours, I don't wish to intrude on the boys work." She managed not to stutter.

"You're not intruding Molly." John said she kindly returned his affection with a hug and a grin. She had always had a soft spot for John and valued his friendship. After brief goodbyes to him she left, Sherlock hadn't said a word still fuming in his chair while he clutched the armrest in a death grip. As she descended the stairs she heard Johns

"Bravo Molly!" which caused a giggle to escape her lips she didn't hear Sherlock's reply for the door being slammed.

After a brief visit with Mrs. Hudson who promised to take Sherlock's clothes back to him Molly left Baker Street. The grey overcast day hung heavy in the air as the now fine drizzle clung to her skin she couldn't feel happier. Reaching into her over large bag she found her phone. Scrolling through all her contacted she finally found the number she needed. He would be thrilled, he had spent year wishing and berating her all through med school.

"Stewart hi it's Molly, still want that chance to make me over?" there was a very loud squeal in reply from over the other side of the phone, so loud she had to remove the phone several inches from her face.

"When can we start?" replied the effeminate excited voice of her friend.

"I'll be home in ten, if you want to help sort out my wardrobe. You can stop over its Saturday tomorrow and I have a day off, so… we can go shopping if you like?" she asked hoping he'd say yes. There was another loud squeal and a quick

"God yes!" then the phone line went dead, what had she let herself in for she shook her head smiling.

An hour later and she found herself in her apartment surrounded by black bin bags full of most of her clothes. She and Stewart collapsed on her sofa both thrilled with their combined efforts. The faded red settee gave gracefully under their weight. Both wore huge grins as they talked over her plan. Stewart had been her best friend through school and she shared everything with him. He was a lot like Sherlock in his was a very sharp dresser but unlike Sherlock he was most defiantly gay. An open bottle of Merlot stood on her antique rosewood table by her side. The glasses still half full.

"So what do you think, will it work?" she had started to second guess herself the minute she got home.

"Darling it's full proof. If he's as repressed as you say he is." He agreed

"We will however need one thing for tomorrow, make over music. You go to bed you look exhausted, I'll peruse your cds." She couldn't argue and taking her wine she went off to bed. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.


	8. Chapter 8

So sorry about the very late update. Going through a rough time of it lately. I hope you enjoy it. I'm looking for a couple of beta's if anyones interested, I am dysleic so I need all the help I can get. I'd like to thank everyone who had reviewed your comments have been noted and I'll see what I can do. By the way I have only been to London once and I was never near Saville row, so I don't know if there are any ladies outfitters there.

Chapter 11

Molly opened her chocolate eyes, the sun streaming through her windows, making her blink several times before she was able to focus. The cream curtains with small roses seemed especially cheery today she thought. Happiness bubbled inside her but she couldn't explain why for a time. Looking round her room for a clue, she noticed her favorite blue skirt draped over her dressing table chair, still slighty damp. Then it hit, she squeaked, she had snogged SHERLOCK HOLMES. Her plan ran quickly through her mind, today was the day when Mousy Molly Hooper died and New Molly took her place. Leaping out of bed, hurriedly changing she flew into the front room. Stewart was already up and waiting.  
>"Good, you're up, I've been waiting" he said waving a portable C.D player and C.D in front of her face.<br>"You ready Girl?" her face reddened, just the thought of what she was trying to do sent her emotions into overload.  
>"Stew err..." she started only to be cut off.<br>"Oh, no you don't Molly Hooper! I have waited too long for this." he said glaring at her frustration clear in his eyes. Molly giggled as Stewart dragged her out the door, barley giving her chance to pick up her bag. Glancing back she said a silent goodbye to her old life, she would no longer be mousy Molly. Suddenly the world spread out before her and anything was possible.

"Where are we going?" she asked, as she was being blindly lead through London. Although she trusted Stewart with all her heart, she knew he had expensive taste. "Oh just to an old friend of mine, works in Saville row nice little shop. He'll give us a great discount. An ill pay half." she gasped pulling him round "stew I can t let you pay, it's my idea." he silenced her with a finger. "My dear girl let me treat you. You know how much I love you, now let me show you." she was about to protest, the very idea was foreign to her she had always paid her own way. She had put herself through med school by working two jobs. She frowned at her old friend. "I'll tell him if you don't." he threatened, she knew him well enough to believe it.

He began to lead her once more through the streets of London. Passing shop upon shop, their glittering displays always enticed her, making her want to buy things, thing she knew she could never afford but today they looked different. She saw a purpose in every window, every window a discovery how to wear clothes well. All the ways to make the most of yourself, to combine tops, trousers and skirts for maximum effect. Each window was a lesson she desperately needed to learn. Her mother hadn't been around to teach her these things, she had passed while Molly was a little girl, and there was just her and her dad. He had tried his best and they were extremely close but he couldn't replace the void that was left. So she never had the makeup talks or the girly shopping trips. It was the only thing she had every really missed. Her father had done the rest but even now he was gone too, she was all alone a family of one. That wasn't quite true she thought, there was Mrs. Hudson, John, Greg, Shadow her cat and of course Stewart they were her family now.

Finally Stewart led her to a small and very opulent looking store. She couldn't bring herself to even look at the name above the door; she felt all the air rush from her lungs. Suddenly the door flew open and a sandy haired man stepped out, with a smile he enveloped Stewart in a hug.  
>"Ah, Stewart it has been too long." the man said with a decidedly French accent.<br>"Simon, so good to see you" Stewart answered placing a kiss on the side of the Frenchman's face.  
>"Ah this must be Miss Molly?" Simon asked his gaze roving over her.<br>"I see we have a lot of work to do." Obviously she knew she wasn't a catwalk model but she didn't think her dress sense was that bad.  
>"I do enjoy a challenge" he beamed a truly ecstatic smile filling his features. This is going to be a long day Molly thought, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face.<p>

Really, it was like a montage off an old film. Simon was a lovely man really, nothing was too much trouble. He brought every type of outfit for her to try. Escorted her and Stewart to the private dressing booths in back, everything screamed expensive. The ruby red covered velvet seating the gold embossed wood work, the classy wall coverings that shimmered in the light and the crystal chandelier that hung imposingly over the room. Being shown into the back to the small cozy sitting area was amazing. The room surrounded by mirrors, the cream and gold chaise lay in the middle allowing a three hundred and sixty degree view. Gasping, shocked at the pure opulence, what was this place that Stewart had led her too. The changing room curtain of ruby velvet set back in the middle of the mirrors. Cautiously she entered to be confronted with a rail full of clothes to try, in every shade. Running her hand along the garments she felt unworthy, she didn't deserve this. Taking long beep breaths she tried to steady her resolve. Stewarts face appeared behind her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder as he leaned in.  
>"You do deserve this and better." He said reading her thoughts. His eyes soft and full. He kissed her gently atop her head before shutting the curtain behind her.<p>

While she changed into the first outfit, Stewart started playing songs. She changed and twirled for her friend many, many, many times. Every so often she would receive thumbs up for an outfit but mostly thumbs down for whatever suit Stewart didn't like. Sometimes he even twisted his face contorting it into gruesome shapes. She waited each time for the verdict, her breath catching and hands shaking. She felt thrilled this was the start, her last stand, the end of all things and the start of something new.

The song list was amazing every song made her feel like a star.

Tom Jones - she's a lady

The temptations - my girl

Roy Orbison - pretty woman

Mika - big girls you are beautiful

Lou Bega - mumbo no5

"What's with the old music?" she wondered trying on a nice suit and skirt set for work. The pale blue material swishing round her legs as she moved, it came to just below her knees. She didn't dare look at the price tag. The feel of cashmere and silk was lovely and made her feel sexy and poised. "Tried to pick all the feel good women ones new stuffs a bit gloomy. There is some new stuff later." Stewart answered waving away the nice suit "Too business like, needs to be more sultry." frowning she really liked this one but if Stewart said no it was final! She had entrusted him with this and she promised herself she wouldn't back down. Anything and everything he suggested she would follow. She had tried her way with Sherlock, time she tried someone else's way. She did admit though, Stewart had impeccable taste.

Katy Perry - firework

Lady ga ga - born this way

Pick - perfect

Christina Aguilera - Beautiful

Were next on the list, causing molly to start to bounce with the music.

She didn't know how long they spent trying on outfits, shoes and jewelry but she left with her arms laden with bags and boxes. Her smile could have stretched to china and Stewarts was the same, the plan was beginning to take shape. "Next hair and makeup" this caused Molly to stumble. She hadn't even considered those, with frightened eyes she look up to Stewarts green ones only to be met with a mischievous grin. "I like my hair!" she stated hoping he wasn't planning on cutting it all off. She loved how her hair flowed and for someone with thick hair it always held whatever shape she tortured it into. "Trust me?" he asked opening his hand for her to take. One last push one last change was all she had to do. She closed her eyes and placed her hand in his. Quietly asking herself if he was worth it. Already knowing the answer was YES! It was time for a well placed phone call.

Thank you for all your reviews. Look forward to your responses. Next chapter we'll see how Sherlock takes to the new molly.


	9. Chapter 9

Here it is folks New Molly.

**Chapter 12**

A pair of strong long legs, clad in black Spencer & hart trousers and a pair of tan army boots strode with purpose down the white/grey halls of St Bart's. It had been a week since... IT... had occurred, the event refused point blank to be deleted, as he had wished. So instead he locked it away in a red folder never to be looked upon. This however wasn't enough; the folder followed him all around the rooms of his mind palace. It showed up on desks, hidden amongst the files on bookcases. Sliding into concertos as he composed in his mind. Everywhere he went he saw it begging to be opened and mulled over. So engrossed was he, trying to figure out what to do with the insufferable object. He had not noticed John stop at the grey doors of the laboratory, until he almost walked into the man. John let out a low whistle. Sherlock's eyes shot up to study his friend. John wore a wolfish grin, he had obviously seen something or rather someone he liked. His eyebrows raised taking in the sight and subconsciously straightening to full height from his usual relaxed state. He gave Sherlock a wink, waving him to look in through the other round window. Exasperated he sighed and walked to the window peering inside. Even he would have to admit, the woman inside had a stunning figure.

The woman was dressed in a powder blue suit, tailored perfectly, cut to the waist. The elegant cut enhancing her slim waist only to flare slightly at the hips, giving her a lovely hour glass figure. The light blue turning her skin a lovely creamy peach. One even Sherlock would not mind sinking his teeth into. A white blouse peeked out of one of her jackets sleeve. The skirt hugged her long legs cut off at the knees with a two inch cut up the back. The cut revealing a slither of creamy skin and stockings, the lacy tops peeking through just enough to tempt. Her legs clad in said nude stockings and her feet sported a pair of small black heels showing off her slender ankles and shapely calves. Who was this woman, he was sure he had never seen her before. Her long honey tone hair highlighted blonde, was cut to just below her shoulder blades and straightened swishing from side to side as she worked. The resemblance to THE woman was remarkable but this woman radiated warmth and softness in contrast to Irene's stark and dangerous air. He knew everyone that worked in Bart's, the only other pathologist were male. He went through his mental list of hospital staff and came up with a blank.

The two men stood at the window for longer than was necessary staring at the woman in front of them. John pulled back slightly before opening the door; he drew in a long breath and fixed a genial smile on his face. If she was free, he was going on a date tonight.  
>"Excuse me madam, we're looking for Dr Molly Hooper?" he asked striding forward. He radiated confidence; John had met few women he had failed to charm. His smile grew broader as he caught her sent, a slight flowery essence that reminded him of spring.<br>"John. Don't tell me you don't recognize your friend when you see her?" the woman in the suit answered. She turned to look at them. John's mouth was a gape as he looked her over. All the air rushed from his system. He was sure he must look like a gold fish, staring at her as though he had never seen her before. The simple white blouse hugged her form. She was wearing a small amount of green eye shadow to enhance the brown of her eyes and peach lipstick to plump her lips. She looked mouthwatering.  
>"Molly" John squeaked, his voice several octaves higher. He coughed and attempted to close his mouth and stop drooling. He knew when she tried she looked amazing, like that Christmas but this was an entirely different level.<p>

Sherlock stood stock still at the sound of her voice, almost teasing in tone. For the first time since Baskerville, he could not believe the evidence of his own eyes. They had almost bugged out of his sockets when she turned but he schooled his features quickly. She looked. How did she look, he couldn't seem to find the right word in his head. His brain kicked up a notch. Faint blush to her cheeks, pleased at John's reaction to her new look. He didn't know why but this annoyed him. Hair straightened and dyed. The shade highlighting her natural color not detracting from it. Layered to heighten her round cheek bones, lifting their appearance slightly. Dark and light green eye shadow, Barry M glitter dust if he was correct. The combination of greens making the brown of her eyes smoky and alluring. Peach lip gloss plumping her lips temptingly. He found himself staring at those lips and inside his mind the red folder sprang open, filling his head with their kiss. He couldn't stop the shiver that raced up his spine or the tight knot that formed in his stomach. The urge to stride over and take her in his arms was unbearable. The creature in his chest had woken up smelling the air; the thought of just taking what he wanted made it purr. He mentally chastised himself; he would not fall into this tempting trap. He was not going to be caught gaping at Molly, as he had been at Irene and her stunt. Especially while Molly was still fully clothed. At that thought, the image of himself uncovering Molly till she stood that way before him came unbidden to his mind. The image took his breath away, being able to touch the creamy skin, hear her gentle moans as he caressed her. Kissing her, joining her moans with his own as he devoured her mouth. Enough! He shouted in his own head, pushing the images away he nodded to her.

"Molly." He acknowledged her his voice slightly off, his eyes scanning her face, she seemed pleased.

"I'm sorry boys; I've really got to go. I have a date tonight" She beamed, this time her smile was confident and sure. It changed her entire being. She shone and even John had to blink at the transformation. Gone was old Molly replaced by something new but the same, it was confusing to say the least. It was as if she had transformed into her inner self. Sherlock straightened at this revelation; obviously she had no trouble deleting the incident. Sherlock found himself feeling put out, believing that Molly would have the same issue as his self.

"I've just got to go change. Feel free to uses the equipment. 3 and 4 have donated their bodies if you need them just be sure to put them back once your done." After she finished, she used all of her courage to walk head held high into her office. Both John and Sherlock watching her go.  
>"You may wish to close your mouth John." Sherlock quipped acidly narrowing his gaze on his friend. John responded with a slight nod his eyes still fixed on the pathologist office. John slowly closed his mouth licking his lips.<br>"Sherlock, what's happening? To Molly I mean?" he asked his curiosity getting the better of him.  
>"Unimportant! We have a case." he replied stonily. Walking over to her work area, he took his usual seat in front of one of the microscopes. Taking the sample from his coat, he placed it carefully between a slide and under the lens. He placed his eyes to the contraption; his thoughts were not as focused as they seemed to those watching him. What was happening to Molly Hooper?<p>

Ten minutes and forty five seconds later she reappeared. Earning a wolf whistle from John; which caused Sherlock to twist his neck so violently, he felt the muscle pull all the way down to his shoes. Again Molly had managed to stun with her new attire and her face glowed red at John's obvious approval. Neither of the men could take their eyes off her. Her dress was well fitted sixties style. It hugged her waist and flared around her hips, in true rock and roll style. Her hair pinned up perfectly. The red of the dress a little ostentatious for her but it did make her feel more confident. The peach lip gloss replaced with a deep shade of red and she had applied eyeliner, enhancing the eye shadow just enough. Sherlock felt his heart speed up considerably as he looked at her. It thundered away in his chest, his hands clenched on the dials of the scope. He could almost feel the artery pump in his neck.

"Whom are you seeing?" Sherlock asked Deadpanned, only his hands gave away his interest but she ignored the question.  
>"Are you almost done? He'll be here in a moment." she asked a smile growing on her face. Part one of her plan was ready and as if on que the door to the morgue opened.<p>

Now who could her date care to guess? will update soon. who ever guesses right will get a special pm from me. xx


	10. Chapter 10

Hi everyone, noone guess correctly so here it is the shocking truth! Thank you for all your reviews they all make my day.

**Chapter 13**

The man popped his face through the door. His face framed in the light of the door for a brief second, before he strode forward to Molly's side. Molly grinned taking her place next to him, looping her arm through his. His lank dark brown hair was slicked back from his face, his sharp features pulled into a smile.  
>"Are you ready Molly?" he asked looking down at her. You could feel the tension grow in the air, a pin drop would sound like a gun shot. The silence was deafening, only to be disturbed by a very loud, slightly maniacal shout. That came from the owner of a low baritone.<br>"ANDERSON! You're going on a date with him?" The obvious look of disgust crossed his features. He looked between the two, looking for any sign that this was some sort of joke. He felt more than slightly nauseous as he noted Anderson place a hand on Molly's shoulder. The protective move had him clenching his fists inside his long coat pockets. The beast that usually remained dormant roared awake, it's snake like eyes glowing with fire. The dragon roared its malcontent, as it sort to claim what truly belong to it. Flames shooting from his mouth and smoke billowing out it's nostrils. It's long scaled tail swishing out behind it, while it stomped and crowed. His chest constricted painfully, a deep burn settled in his stomach. Not the pleasant warmth that formed at Molly's appearance but a raging inferno, if felt like hot boiling lava. Bloodlust was not something he often felt but in this moment, he found he would rather enjoy throttling the man.

Molly walked straight in front of the glowering detective. So close she could see the small scar that adorned his bottom lip on the right. She wondered briefly how he obtained it. She noticed that he held his breath at their close proximity. There was an odd light in his eyes as she stared into them. Like blue flames dancing on ice. She could smell his scent; it hung round her like a cloak. It was something between cinnamon and soap, with just a hint of expensive aftershave.  
>"Yes and?" she asked, her breath ghosting over his face but she continued on. She didn't notice the light shiver that ran through him or the hairs rise on his skin. Her eyes glowed darkly as she challenged him, a new feeling of power bolstering her confidence. The room seemed to shrink, the over bright lights fading it was just them. The bubble did not break until she squared her shoulders.<br>"Why do you care who I date? Come on Nick." She poked his chest with a slender finger at every word, just where his heart rested. His heart rate sped up on contact, thundering away in side his chest. The alarming speed of his heart was worse than before. With one final prod she turned and strode away. When she reached the smug forensic, she took his arm and led him out. Anderson threw Sherlock a gloating smile over his shoulder as they left.

Half way down the corridor Molly turn to Nick, gave him a small kiss to the cheek.  
>"Thanks, I owe you one. Shall we go and enjoy the meal?" she smiled her old nervous smile. The old Molly hadn't completely disappeared. She realized she was smiling like a fool; her plan was working better than she had hoped. Sherlock was unraveling before her; she was beginning to understand every little move he made. All the small indicators of his moods, the twitch in his cheek and the burning behind his eyes. He hadn't changed but she was learning to read him, as he read everyone else.<br>"Anything to finally get one up on the arrogant fre..." His voice was dark with dislike. He stopped when Molly gave him a look that could melt steel.

"Any way Sally will be waiting for us?" He added his tone lighter once more. While Molly walked away a small, no, minute hope began to blossom in her chest. Molly and Anderson continued on to their dinner date. Even if it was fake. The best lies are those that aren't lies at all. Even though she hated to lie, she couldn't help the excited feeling that crept into her heart, he hadn't caught on to anything yet.

Meanwhile Sherlock paced the lab. A low growl reverberated in the back of his throat. Something wasn't right but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He saw John looking at him with an amused expression. Obviously John found the situation funny, he however did not. How could Molly entertain the possibility of dating such a toadying ignoramus? If his extreme incompetence wasn't enough, the man looked like a mutated version of a rat, with the same IQ. What had she said "Why do you care who I date?" Why did he care? He would not have done so before. What had changed between them? The only real change had been all those months ago. Moriarty! He had made him face a few things. Like the fact that even though he may deny it, usually quite vehemently he did care. Had always cared. Moriarty had been right, when he said he would burn the heart out of him. He had forced him to face loss, had subjected him to a solitary existence for a whole year, a life without the ones that loved him. Scuttling round the back streets of England, a fading shadow in his own home. He wondered the dark alleys and seedy clubs, with no more than the clothes he wore. He was a ghost unable to talk to anyone but his pray and that was only for further leads. Why did that change Molly and his relationship? Sliding back on to the stool he pressed his long fingers together in front of his chin. Closing his eyes he headed straight to her room. It wasn't hard to find but it had changed instead of just the normal array of colors, it was covered in photographs. Her smile, a close up of her chocolate brown eyes, her dress at the ill fated Christmas party and her newest look. The colors swirling around the frames of each gold case. New colors added to the mix gold's and greens. With a deep cleansing breath the pushed open the door.

What will Sherlock find inside Molly's room. Will Molly continue her dates with Anderson or does she have someone else in mind? find out in the next chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you for your reviews. I hope this doesn't disappoint. I hope this just give a idea to the inner workings of my Sherlock's mind. Please read and review as each review gives me sqeee's.

Chapter 14

He turned the handle slowly, allowing the door to sweep open. The room had of course changed since his last visit. He hadn't needed to visit since before the fall. Then the room had just been the lab and mortuary merged together. He had entered back then, to try and figure out his last move with Moriarty, he found he could think better here. The cool solitude of the morgue was a great conductor for his mental process. With only Molly in the back ground as a comforting presence. Old Molly in her baggy clothes and cardigans, looking so unbearably sweet. It was then in the middle of a very arduous thought he had imagined her in his mind. Her unwavering loyalty, he knew she would never believe ill of him. It was then the decision was made. The plan had formed easily after that. Now however there where pieces of her flat there too. The floor split in three. The cool white tiles of the morgue, the grey carpet tiles of the lab and the warm cream carpet of her home. At the far end of the morgue portion stood a morgue slab thankfully UN occupied and behind it a closed body storage closet. The lab held a long table with many of his old experiments littered across the top. The soft whir of the machinery comforting in its familiarity. The experiments were in different stages of completion. Some he thought absently could merit revisiting.

He was comfortable in those environments but as he turned his attention to the home portion of this ever expanding room. He felt the stirrings of unease. There was her long couch in front of the old silver TV set. A low fire burning in the grate. The most intriguing items were the photos that fitted to the walls. All of Molly. The largest was defiantly the new Molly in her red dress, painted on canvas in oil, the hues giving the painting a warm glow. Her face framed in soft light. A smile curling her lips and her eyes as trusting as always. Her hair flowing out softly behind her as if moved by invisible winds. To describe her in this picture was hard, she was more than beautiful; he would go so far as to say angelic. He found himself engrossed in looking at her, trying so hard to memorize each facet of her image. He almost missed the rest of the room. Across the space was her book case now sporting more pictures but there lay several test tubes. All the tubes where labeled. He glided over intrigued to stand before them; there stood six individual tubes in a row. Their labels read.

Scent

Hair

Laugh

Scream

Stutter

The last lay unmarked, without thought he pulled the small cork stopper from the tube and Molly's voice echoed around the room.

"What do you need?" There was so much strength behind that one small sentence. He felt the tightening in his chest, the wetness form at the corner of his eyes. Reaching forward he found a picture of her face in that moment. Her gaze was determined her face set and resolute. She would do anything for him, even move mountains if he asked her to. The quiet protector. Never speaking up, content to live in the background of his life until needed. He hadn't realized until almost too late, how very important she was.

Looking into her features he realized, yes Molly was a beautiful woman. Had in fact always been beautiful, he just hadn't been paying attention. It was a simple change really, he had needed her, realized he had always needed her. The only one everyone overlooked but had endless potential. It was more than that though it was who she was. She was stronger than he had deduced, more fiercely loyal than any creature on Earth, steadfast and true, hard quality's to find in the increasingly jaded world. She was innocent and slightly naive but instead of detracting from her gave her endless optimism. Sunny disposition married to a gentle, kind and giving heart. She showed him all the best traits a human could have. That they should have. More than anything she was his friend but could it be more. He flung himself onto the couch he had occupied for a considerable time. Mulling over everything to do with Molly Jayne Hooper.

Then after filing it all under, needs further thought. He went over the meeting today for anything that may give him a clue to what he was missing. Playing the scene out on the TV pausing from time to time on her facial expression. Then there it was, just before she turned to walk out with Anderson. A glint in her eye, a small curve to her lips. He had seen this look only once before on John's face. When the force had brought him that irritating hat, he had worn it despite the fact he hated the horrid thing. Deeply amused. Why was Molly amused? This was getting him nowhere. So he turned to leave none the wiser from when he had entered. Only to find her standing by the door. A light smile on her face as he approached, they stood just centimeters apart. Dressed in her normal baggy clothes. She raised her hands to his hair, running her fingers through the wild tresses.  
>She leaned towards him as he let his eyes flutter shut, her mouth at his ear.<br>"Sherlock" was all she whispered before kissing him softly on the lips. The innocent kiss jolted him out of his mind place, where John of course was waiting, as patient as ever.

"Finished?" John asked his tone still very much amused. He had figure out Sherlock's problem before the great man himself had and it was a very heady feeling indeed. Sherlock nodded and marched quite quickly out of St Bart's, hailing a passing taxi with the slightest of hand movements. The kiss in his head playing on his mind, it was so different to the real one they had shared; it was an unusually tender kiss full of longing.  
>"We shall have to return tomorrow. To see how the sample changes." Sherlock stated keeping his eyes fixed on the street as the taxi whisked them back home. John was left wondering what sample he was talking about. The slide or Molly Hooper!<p> 


	12. Chapter 12

I hope this is o.k. thanks for all the review they are so wonderful. I've rewritten this three times. Still not the best but it is a nice bridge to the next chapter. Please review.

Chapter 15

John's head was pounding as he and Sherlock caught a taxi to St Bart's. Sherlock had been torturing his violin all night. He had raked the bow sharply in all directions screeching and howling, till the early hours of the morning. John had tried everything, talking to him, shouting at him when the pitch hit painful proportions; he started throwing various objects at the irritating man's head. Finally the noise had abated early in the morning. He could tell his friend had, had little to no sleep and he also had suspicions to why. In all the time he had known Sherlock he had never seen him act this bizarrely before, even with Irene the most intriguing of women. John was worried to the point of wanting to interfere, as the man stated himself this was most defiantly not his area.

He looked now to his frozen friend as he stared unseeingly out if the taxi window. He wondered how to breach the subject. How did talk to his best friend and five year old man child, about a subject he hated, his own feelings. John opened and closed his mouth a few times, before giving in and slumping eyes closed into the back rest. It was impossible; he knew what would happen as soon as the words would leave his mouth. Even though it would be amusing to watch Sherlock get indignant. He might even turn the collar up on his coat, like he usually did when trying to be mysterious but he would guess that this time it would be because of irritation. John sighed, with his eyes closed he decided it was now or never, they were already half way to Bart's.

"Sherlock?" he said eyes half open to ascertain his friends current state a loud hmm was his only reply.  
>"About Molly?" he continued then stopped Sherlock had straightened so sharply he resembled an iron rod. "Don't hurt her o.k.?" John's eyes were riveted to his friends. He knew all too well what Sherlock could be like when he didn't get his own way. Some emotion flashed through his friend eyes, for the briefest of moments John only had time to register its appearance before it vanished. "Why would I want to hurt Doctor Hooper?" Sherlock batted the question back.<br>"Since when did you start calling her Doctor Hooper? You usually call her Molly." John stated he watched Sherlock's eyes crease as he returned his attention back to the street ending their brief conversation. Why was it so hard for him to show emotion, to admit he cared about people, it was a question John was sure he may never get answered.

Only a short and silent ride later had them arriving at St Bart's. The first sight that greeted them was a rather bright and gaudy poster, which read.

56th Annual Christmas masquerade ball. 12 December 7.45pm start till late. £15.00 ticket.

Three days away, John had missed the last one due to his rather pathetic depression. He didn't like thinking of that time, the time after his best friends fall. He understood why he had been left in the dark. For his own protection but still hadn't he faced enough near death experiences, to warrant some sort of clue. Though Molly had explained to him during their brief phone conversation, she had never seen the detective so distraught and concerned about someone before. It was a pleasant feeling to know that his feelings of friendship were at least returned by the usually cold and indifferent man. Approaching the morgue he secretively wondered how Molly would look today.

In his absent wonderings he failed to notice Sherlock stop to peer through the morgue window. So he ploughed straight into him, earning a long sigh and exaggerated roll of his eyes from his companion. "Seems as if Miss Hooper isn't here." he stated with what sounded like a relived sigh. How wrong he was, for as soon as the doors were opened Molly appeared from her office. John could feel his jaw go slack. If she looked good yesterday, she looked stunning today. Her hair tied up in a smooth French twist. She wore a knee length dress in a lovely pale turquoise, fitted perfectly to her body the pale cream bolero jacket showing off her shapely neck and arms. The morgue lights danced on her body, showing off the light brown freckles that sprinkled her creamy skin. Stockings and suspenders again, a paler colour making her legs look almost opalescent everything matched with her cream strappy sandals, the small heels clicking on the marble. "Oh, hello John, Sherlock!" I didn't think you'd be in today." Molly gasped a little surprised.  
>"WOW, Molly you look wonderful!" John stated he could not believe the change in the usually uncoordinated, mousy Pathologist. There was something deeper too, something he couldn't quite put a name too.<p>

"I'm actually glad you popped round today. See it's this ball they've given me two tickets, so well I need a date." she said calmly looking between the two, John noticed his friends ears pick up. "Did things not going well with Anderson last night?" Sherlock asked a smug grin working its way onto his face. "Oh Anderson, not really my type though it was a nice evening. He was a complete gentleman unlike some." She smiled warmly at the memory but threw the barb in Sherlock's direction, causing him to frown. John felt like laughing but knew it would not be appreciated. "Well back to my date situation!" Sherlock's back straightening at her words and a smile lit his face. John knew Molly was going to ask Sherlock it was obvious, Molly had loved him for a very long time. John looked at the floor wishing he was anywhere but here for this chat.  
>"John would you go with me? As my date, on a proper date?" John's head snapped up in time to see Sherlock grit his teeth and go an alarming shade of red. John thought he could hear a low growl emanate from the detective. The thought was drown out when Molly filled his view. She tilted his head to look deep into his eyes and ever so slightly winked at him with the eye Sherlock couldn't see. Suddenly everything made sense, the change of style, the different attitude and the date with Anderson. It was all to get to Sherlock and it was working. John couldn't keep the smile from his face. Now he had to decide if he would become Molly's accomplice. After a brief pause the decision was made.<br>"I'd love too. "He answered then watched as his friend turned tail and stormed out of the morgue in high dungeon. Smiling and kissing Molly on the cheek he followed his friend. This was going to be fun and a little bit of revenge.


	13. Chapter 13

Firstly this is going to be a long chapter. I did think about dividing it in two but it flowed better together. Secondly I would love to thank my followers and reviewers your words mean so much. So thank you all I do have a few more projects I'm looking into doing so please r&r them too.

Chapter 16

**14 North Gower Street 6:30pm**

Molly stood in front of her full length mirror; her reflection was a mystery even to her. Her hair was pinned up and a wig cap held it down, making her look a little like a bank robber. The wig rested on her dressing table its white ringlets spread across the wood. The whole thing was a mass of neat curls with a few red bows here and there. Still she was almost semi nude; she only had an hour before the ball would begin. She was clad only in her red silk and gold balcony bra and pants set. The matching corset for her costume was being tightened from behind. The soft hum's and Garr's the only sound in the quiet apartment. Mary Morsten had offered her assistance tonight, Mary was one of the few friends she had left at Bart's, having met after the fall she was the only one not to gloat about the dead disgraced detective. They had become fast friends.

Molly wondered how Victorian women were able to breathe; with one last tug the thing was laced. The damn corset did however drop her dress size from a slim size 10 to a drastic size 6. She was sure that if she put her hands round her waist she could make her fingers meet in the middle. Her apparently lacking breasts spilled slightly over the top of her balcony bra.  
>"Now for the hoop skirt and bustle!" Mary said almost to herself heaving the material on to the floor so Molly could step into it. With this constricting band round her middle she doubted she could bend. "I hope this is worth it?" Mary asked concern in her voice. Lifting the material round her hips to tie at the back with the ample cord provided. Letting the hoops fall down around her.<br>"It's my last shot if I can't break through, then it's time to move on." Molly answered, her voice for once sounding sure and she knew herself the truth of these words. She would move on.  
>"Does my bum look big in this?" Molly joked earning an eye roll from her friend, she giggled a little to herself she thought it was funny. As the bustle made her butt huge in comparison with the rest of her.<br>" Want some music on?" Mary coerced she knew as soon as the music started Molly would have to join in the singing.  
>"Alright! Think I have the Bee gees in at the moment. Will that do, actually I have the perfect song for tonight." Smiling she turned the player on by remote, skipped a couple of tracks and started singing.<p>

"You couldn't give me what; you couldn't give me what everybody needs.  
>Shouldn't let you kick me when I'm down, my baby.<br>Finding out everybody know that you've been using me.  
>I'm surprised you let me stay around you.<br>One day we're gonna lift the cover and look inside your heart.  
>We're gonna level before we go and tear this love apart.<p>

There no fight can fight this battle I've found with me.  
>You win again.<br>So little time we do nothing but compete.  
>There's no life on earth, nobody could see me through.<br>You win again.  
>Some day we'll try but if anybody can we can.<br>And I'll be  
>and I'll be<br>following you  
>ah girl<br>ah girl

Ah babe  
>Shake you from now on.<br>I'm gonna break down your defenses one by one.  
>I'm gonna hit you from all sides, lay you fortress open wide.<br>Nobody stops this body from taking you.  
>You'd better beware, I swear.<br>I'm gonna be there one day when you fall.  
>I could never let you cast aside the greatest love of all." She repeated the chorus and faded with the song. Smiling she realized how well this fitted her and Sherlock's relationship.<p>

Somehow during the song Mary had managed to get the dress over her head. The heavy fabric cascaded over her like a waterfall of red and gold, which was the theme she had chosen for tonight. The dress was perfect, a warm red covered in large gold flowers and vines. The brocade shimmered in the right light. The front of the dress dipped low on her chest revealing her cleavage, a panel of gold silk covered in small embroidered silver roses. The panel rested between the red fabric framing her tiny waist and chest. The thick material fell to her elbows, the sleeves puffed out slightly. The weight was significant and each time she moved she could feel it swish. Now for the final touches, she sat carefully at her dressing table while Mary lifted the wig. Placing it gingerly on her head, she tucked in a few stray strands of hair and arranged the curls. She stepped back her eye Mary's eyes going wide she gasped.  
>"Oh, Molly you look beautiful. You'll knock him dead." Molly couldn't speak, so she nodded to her friend. She didn't recognize herself. She looked confident and demure. Slipping into the cream leather and lace Victorian boots she had found on the internet. She reached for the last piece of the puzzle the long red cloak that lay sprawls on her bed. Mary deftly swept it around her shoulders and led her friend outside.<p>

Mary kissed her goodbye and raced off to get ready herself. Molly however barely heard her; she had stopped dead by the sight that greeted her. A pair of elegant black horses and a Victorian cream buggy were parked outside. The footman was clad in traditional Victorian uniform and hat, holding the cream door open.  
>"Your chariot my lady, care of Mr... Mycroft Holmes." The footman stated smugly from his poised position. Showing a flare for the dramatic He bowed low to her, causing a heated blush to creep up her face. She gasped, so Mycroft had heard of her antics and surprisingly was on her side. Would she ever understand the Holmes men? She climbed in and the young man shut the door, she requested. "221B Baker street please".<br>"Your wish is my command" he retorted back rakishly. Leaping up upon the seat and he started the horses off at a trot. The ride was a little bumpy but she didn't mind, she felt like a princess. Tonight she would dance with her friend and hopefully claim her prince. She couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face, the blood red lipstick shining in the lamp light.

**221B Baker Street. 7:10pm**

Sherlock had not spoken one single word in two days. He could not rid himself of the fire burning in the pit of his stomach, or the searing red claw marks in his chest. The beast was relentless in its fury crashing around his chest causing near fatal constrictions, so much so that Sherlock found it hard to breathe. He could not think his mind was overcome. He had come to terms with the fact he was jealous but he didn't understand why? He could no longer look at his friend; the sight had lava pouring from the dragon's mouth. It burned through his veins; the struggle to keep control robbed him of his voice. The feral beast was tearing at its constraints, wanting nothing more than to rip and tear at Doctor John Watson till there was nothing left. Its majestic blue head thrashed to and fro denting the carefully constructed safe it rested in. Forcing the creature back took his entire mental prowess. So he remained silent. Today was the day, as they say, THE DATE. A fancy dress ball he thought scathingly how quaint.

Finally after many large breaths he looked over to his friend, preening in the mirror over the fire place. Sherlock admitted the costume was a good choice for the army Doctor. A Knights Hospitaller very fitting both a soldier and a Doctor all at the same time. The chain mail was hand hammered, so not from any cheap costume hire shop. The willow shield was painted with historic accuracy and the sword was plate steel, high end so specialist reenactments shop then. The woolen tunic was perfectly tailored, it's coal black and white motif elegantly stitched. So it cost quite a bit of money. More than the good Doctor could afford. Sherlock could have screamed.  
>"John, where did your costume come from?" he already knew but required conformation to his theory.<br>"Mycroft, he said and I quote 'it would do very well with the choice Miss Hooper has made for her costume' then walked away leaving me this?" The question in John's voice was clear. How did Mycroft know about the ball and more to the point, how did he know what Molly would be wearing?

Sherlock had known for some time that Mycroft spied on him and his associates but this was taking it too far. To go so far as to meddle was unlike Mycroft, he didn't enjoy legwork. What was in this for him was a new puzzle he didn't need. These new thoughts were interrupted by the sound of horse hoofs against tarmac. Sherlock shot off the couch, like a bullet from a gun to the window. Where he saw to his annoyance a horse drawn buggy pulling to a standstill. Mycroft's work again! A red cloaked figure that must be Molly disembarked; she headed to the door and knocked quietly a few times.  
>"She is here John!" he stated his voice constricting in his throat. He could not tell what her costume was as the cloak covered her completely. He heard John rushing around behind him collecting the last few items of his costume before heading out with a quick<br>"Don't wait up, bye Sherlock." He didn't answer the burning was back to epic proportions the need to do something, anything was overwhelming. Grabbing the first thing that came to hand. A large book on fungus, he threw the item with all the force he could muster. Shattering two glass shelves, after falling along with other items it landed on the back of John's chair.

Only one thought went through his mind. FOLLOW THEM. This thought sent him into action thanking anything or anyone who may be listening, he was glad he had attended his last family's party. That too had been a masquerade ball; he had been forced to attend by Mummy. He raced into his room, stripped bare in seconds he retrieved the item from the back of his wardrobe. The morning suit was perfect the Victorian cape and cane rested within the bag. Sliding into his tailored black trousers and white dress shirt he formed a plan. Slipping into the matching university jacket, he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. The cool silver tip of the cane was smooth and rounded as he encased it in his long agile fingers. The weight of the cape causing him to straighten more than usual. His eyes caught on the porcelain mask at the bottom of the bag. He had not used it last time, it was unnecessary to hide ones face in front of family. Tonight however it may prove to be wise he thought. Lifting the feather light mask, he placed it against his face feeling the smooth surface float over his cheeks. Lacing the black ribbon at the back he turns to the mirror and there it was, perfect, the phantom of the opera. As quick as lightning he exited and 221B Baker Street was silent, except for the quiet sip of tea from Mrs. Hudson.

Next chapter will need the M rating. Lots of Sherlolly to come.


	14. Chapter 14

Please, please forgive me; I know this is up later than expected. I just couldn't fit it all into one chapter, so I had to write two. I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 17**

It was a little past half seven when they arrived. Molly watched as John, being the perfect gentleman exited the coach first. Taking long clinking strides round the back of the buggy to her side. The chainmail was heavy and slowed his usually brisk movements. He opened the cream door and held his hand high for her. Slowly he helped her down, the cloak never once gaping to reveal her; she wanted this surprise to come inside. John smiled his warmest smile in her direction. During the hard times after the fall, she had tried hard to comfort the once broken man before her. So a deep and lasting affection had set in. In those times she had been his only shoulder, everyone had deserted him, during that time visiting him at his sister's they had become good friends. She didn't fancy John but his recent compliments had boosted her self confidence. John was lovely and he was someone she counted as a dear friend. Taking his arm she lead him through the maze of St Bart's, towards the conference room where the ball was to be held. Sharing this night with John was wonderful, she found that he was much like Mary and he cared about her just as much. She felt contented.

The room was stunning; it had been transformed from its grey drab self, into a glittering winter wonderland. The floor had been dusted with glitter making the grey carpet tiles sparkle, the tables all laid out with crisp white table cloths, blue and silver candelabras adorned the display. Silver plates and goblet were placed along will silver cutlery. Each table sported a large array of flowers blue roses, white lilies and snowdrops to name a few. The seats were covered in billowing blue net and tied with a silver bow, they had even gone so far as too higher a snow maker that would go off at different intervals, covering everything and everyone in a thin layer of paper. It was truly magical. Four ten foot tall blue and white Christmas tree stood in each corner. Decorated in the same blue, white and silver theme as the room. The small bows and glittering white reindeers seemed to leap and glide in the shimmering lights. They had left considerable room for the dance floor and mistletoe hung at every entrance. They stopped briefly below one of the sprigs, for a quick peck on the cheek before John lead her in.

Mike Stamford appeared out of nowhere dressed as a court jester, his shoes covered in bells that jingled as he walked. The bright yellow and red colors garish in the dancing disco lights.  
>"May I take your cloak Molly? There all being put in the storeroom." he asked then turned to John with raised eyebrows. Molly had to grin, obviously he expect her to bring Sherlock.<br>"Shall I take... err your helmet and shield?"  
>"If you wouldn't mind Mike. Molly do you need a hand?" John offered. This was going to be great she could feel it, the mounting excitement of this reveal balled up in her stomach creating a sizable knot there.<br>"Please, if you don't mind." Back to good old Molly then she thought, then again the subject of that particular charade wasn't present.  
>"No problem" Stepping behind her, he helped remove the cloak. Peeling the heavy material from her shoulders revealed the gown to all, all attention was instantly on her and every pair of eyes glued to the shy woman in front of them. In one swift move she pirouetted to face him. She watched as his eyes bugged wide. She loved the way his mouth parted just enough to reveal his teeth.<p>

Molly heard not just John's gasp but Mike's and a few others too. It was an exhilarating feeling. She felt ten foot tall she spun round, to give them all the full effect.  
>"What do you think? Do you like it?" she asked her nervousness seeping in. What if I look silly, god what was I thinking, she thought to herself while worrying her lip between her teeth.<br>"God, Molly you're stunning. He doesn't know what he's missing." John reassured, giving her a small pat on the arm. That was the second time someone had inferred that tonight. The small gesture wasn't enough however and John found himself enveloped in a large hug. Smiling over her shoulder he shooed the still gaping Mike away.

The music changed and the haunting melody of it's that ole devil called love started to play.  
>"Care for a dance, me lady." John asked with a cheeky grin and a low bow, which cause various clinks and clanks to come from his armor.<br>"Yes I would, Tin man" She grinned back a mischievous glint sparkling behind her eyes.  
>"Tin man! I certainly feel like one. Does that make you Dorothy?" he said leading her to the dance floor. A very cheeky grin plastered on his face that made his eye sparkle in the light. She could see why all those women found him irresistible. He wasn't conventionally handsome but he had a cheeky boyish quality that complimented his stalwart nature. A thoroughly wonderful man, who radiated warmth and comfort. Everything a woman could desire with kind eyes and forgiving heart and he was as loyal as a lion to boot.<p>

Everyone there was watching. Molly couldn't help the blush that rose in her cheeks or how easy it was to have John slip his arm around her back. His hand cradling hers gently as he pulled her close to start dancing. To her amazement John danced flawlessly, the smooth bluesy slowness of the song, allowed them to move gracefully through the throng. Soon the other dancers made room for the two at the center of the floor. He twisted and twirled her through a quick waltz full of interesting moves that flowed seamlessly with the music.  
>"Molly, are you wearing a real corset?" he asked in concern, as his fingers traced a bone at her waist. Corsets could prove fatal and did considerable damage to internal organs.<br>"Yes but it is only for one night. To be honest it's not that bad I can still breathe though not as easily." The reassurance did little to nullify the concern in John's gaze.  
>"You are sure he'll turn up tonight. All he's done is settle into his mind place and only surfaced five minutes before I left."John smiled his normal crinkly eyed smile. His natural warmth enveloped her and she could feel his calming nature help her relax. The truth was she didn't know if this part of the plan would work.<br>"I don't really k know. I just have to try. I love him, I always have but I can't keep waiting." She couldn't hide the sadness and uncertainty that laced her voice. John's eyes mirrored her own he could understand her position, so instead of forcing the matter of her plan he drew her closer. He offered the only comfort he could; even he couldn't work out the mind of his best friend.

He walked into the perimeter of the room searching for the figure of his friend. An uneasy feeling had taken residence in his stomach, akin to a viral infection. It caused a very unpleasant rolling sensation; he tried to fool himself, that he was unaware as to the cause of this reaction. He Sherlock Homes was not a fanciful man; even he knew it was the thought of seeing her in costume. What would the mousy pathologist choose? He couldn't find her silhouette anywhere. Scanning the crowd for the only clue he had, John's costume he was drawn to the center of the dance floor. What he saw made his stomach drop and anger burn in his throat. John was off dancing with some woman, when he was supposed to be here with Molly. How could he desert her, Sherlock was deeply disappointed in his friend. This woman in a red Victorian dress was a size six, taller and much more confident than Molly. It was at this moment John turned the woman out in to a spin and Sherlock's mouth gaped wide. It was Molly; his brain almost had a seizure. He couldn't comprehend any of it. Corset obviously, high heels, too high really knowing Molly's clumsy nature. There were other changes make up applied by someone else, wig and bustle, conclusion a massive effort all in aid of his friend. He felt like one hundred tiny, poison filled daggers had been thrust into his system, she had made herself stunning for his best friend, stunning was the only word capable of describing her and it was all for John. In his chest the Dragon stopped in his pacing, let out one mournful roar and lay its enormous head down, as one solitary tear escaped its piercing blue eye. The dragon deflated and deep sadness took hold. His chest tightened considerably, his breath caught and came in sharp rasping gasps. A pain like no other ripped through the cage in his chest, breaking apart the bars till they were no more than ash in the wind. Instead of the beast rampaging through his system as expected, it curled up and shuddered broken and full of despair.

Sherlock was about to turn and head back out, when out of the corner of his eye he saw Molly stumble and fall. In an instant concern twisted his stomach, he wanted to go to her, check her condition himself but there was John kneeling down to her. She turned a smile lighting her face as she whispered in his ear. A woman wearing an Egyptian Cleopatra costume hurried to the pair. Molly gestured to the two, who helped her up. Patting their shoulder's Molly exited the room and on instinct Sherlock followed, his cape flaring out behind him in his haste. Obviously she was heading for the morgue and the spare pair of ballet flat she kept there, after a long shift she would slip into them to do the paperwork. He barely registered that John and the other woman started to dance, or the two matching smiles that followed him out of the door.

**Chapter18**

Here she waited, the cool dark of the morgue surrounding her. It was slightly scary but Molly was used to the silence, it was somewhat comforting to be here for the final piece to the puzzle. When John had spun her out during the dance she had seen him, even in his costume there was no escaping those curls and blue eyes. There he was her phantom of the opera, it suited him well the forbidden temptation of the dark. An injured soul in need of solace. She had faked a fall and as John had bent towards her, she whispered to him  
>"He's here, time to put part 3 of the plan into action" she had smiled as John gave her an exaggerated wink. She could see Mary approach in concern, letting the pair help her to her feet, she introduced them. "John this is Mary Morstan a good friend of mine, Mary, John Hamish Watson. Would you care to take over Mary?" she asked using John's middle name always brought about a slight blush to the Doctor's cheeks. Mary's eyes lit up as she looked at John smiling. With that settled Molly had left. So now she waited knowing he would follow. She didn't understand how she knew this she just did.<p>

He swept with his usual grace into the morgue, seeing the light shine from under the office door he started forward. "Molly, you of all people, should be aware of the danger that, that corset presents." He chastised her use of a garment that could cause her harm. He did so in his most analytical voice. Until the door shut behind him and he turn to see Molly lock the door from the inside. She had not been in the office; she had lain in wait in the darkness. What for was the question and his mind drew a blank as to the answer? He watched stunned as she slid the key childishly down her cleavage and into her corset. She had removed her powdered wig and let her hair loose to drape around her shoulders in large curls. It dawned on him quickly that this was a trap! Orchestrated and executed by Molly of all people and it had worked. It was plain to see now. The revelation hit him sideways; this had all been for him. The change in style, the dates, choosing John as her consort and most of all the small fall. Her amused smile with Anderson it all fitted everything was for him. "Stupid, stupid" he whispered to himself. The beast in his chest however was again on the alert and swelled with pride at the idea. It's pacing resumed till its foot falls almost became one pounding noise or was that his heartbeat he couldn't tell. There was a warm glow forming around the creature, as if its entire body was producing heat. Not a burning, raging fire but a soft, warming continuous flame. Such an unfamiliar feeling left his mind racing.

She strode towards him now, in silence. She removed the cane from his hands and set it down on the cool metal slab at her side. The action pulled him from his thoughts to gaze at the warm brown eyes in front of him. Shinning in the dim overhead lights, all her emotions written in her eyes for him to read.  
>"So now you know." she stated, she didn't need or want confirmation, she had seen him figure it out behind his eyes. "I think it's time for a little damasking" slowly she unbuttoned his cape letting the material slip through and gather in her fingers, she moved around him slowly removing the heavy item as she went. The swish of her gown was the only sound; even their breathing was almost inaudible. Placing the expensive garment aside she returned to stand facing him. Standing on her tip toes, she reached around and untied the ribbon too his mask, letting the object free from his handsome face. Again she placed it carefully along with the others. "Just one more mask to get rid of" Molly said her heart racing and blood strumming through her ears. During this dance he had stilled so completely, she could have mistaken him for a statue. Her confidence shocked her and by the look that graced his face, it shocked him too. His brow creased in confusion. "What mask?" He growled sending waves of nerves crashing over her, schooling herself she replied "The one you use to cover your heart." Sherlock's face contorted into a sneer. "I don't have a heart."<br>"Liar." she stated instantly, noting the step back he had taken and unknowing of the effects that her words had, had she continued. "You hide behind that mask, Sociopath and it's a lie! Sociopaths don't care about anything Sherlock and you do. Or you wouldn't have cared enough to do what you did. You wouldn't have cared if Moran had shot John through the head or Mrs. Hudson and Lastrade. You cover yourself in indifference so no one can see how much you truly care. You love John and the rest so much, you were willing to jump, to die to keep them safe and don't try to deny it, it won't work with me. You're a great master of disguise Sherlock. Truly brilliant and an utter genius but there's something you missed." she spoke with such passion, even she didn't realize she had. The emotion made her whole being glow. Was it the night, the dress, John's sweet compliments and words of encouragement but she felt in command for once. Taking the few small steps between, till their bodies were flush together. She could see the shock color his eyes, the vulnerability there that no one else saw but her. "What did I miss?" Sherlock's eyes becoming slits of ice blue, as he tried to fight the sledgehammer of her words. Leaning in till her mouth was at his ear and his warmth and scent fill her senses, she whispered so softly "I see you." she felt the tremor run though him. It was then in the cold deserted room she took his mouth with her own.

This kiss was not the scalding one they had shared but the one from his mind place. Filled with her tenderness, tolerance and love. Slowly, so slowly she kissed him, her warm lips shaped his blending them together. His mind quieted as enlightenment hit, his jealousy, the sheer lust for her, the possessive terms and the protective instincts he harbored for her. Now it all became clear. He Sherlock Holmes was in love with Molly Hooper. Such moments of clarity were rare things; usually he was one step ahead. Having figured out the end game before the other person had even begun. Not this time and that both frightened and excited him. He noted her slow and lightly disengage him, knowing that the cause was his unresponsiveness. He heard her sigh; he knew what that meant she was giving up. The plaintive sound caused panic to well inside him; he didn't want her to go, or to give up. Before she could turn from him he drew her in to his arms crushing her torso to his. She gasped out loud at the contact. Bringing his long fingers up to card through her hair he brought her lips back to his own. Returning the trusting kiss with the new found beats of his heart. His racing synapses stilled there was only Molly's lips. His tongue licked the edge of her mouth begging for entrance; Molly moaned causing an animalistic growl to rumble through him. Her hands finding purchase on his shoulder, in his hair. Earning another reverberating moan to come from his own mouth. Heat built up between them. Roused from the depths of them, he skimmed his hands up and down her sides unable to stop his eager searching. Sucking one swollen lip in to his mouth he ground himself into her. Hearing the gasp escape her mouth he smirked, then shuddered as her hands tugged his hair. Feeling the other cup the back of his neck and raked down the pale skin. The nail lightly scratching the sensitive skin causing blood to surge through his veins making him twitch, his arousal achingly tight against his dress trousers.

Leaving his mouth she trailed a blazing path of kisses down his neck and jaw. The pale expanse open and inviting. She bit and nibbled the tender flesh behind his ear and felt him clench his fingers at her waist. Making him growl and shudder, she could feel the pulse, beat a thrumming rhythm. She had done that, made the cool detective groan and growl, pride emboldened her. Licking the hollow between his color bones elicited a throaty low rumble and growl of need. Wet heat pooled between her quivering thighs, she wanted to do more. She could feel his heavy need against her hip. Slowly she scraped her nails down his shirt, feeling the muscle under her touch flex. His head lolled back at the stream of sensation, overwhelming his ever analyzing mind. Sliding from his claiming grasp to breathe, she found them both panting. She searched his eyes as her hand dipped to his slim waist, seeking approval she played with the band of leather she found. She saw his lust but there was more, that small glimpse made her heart swell fit to burst, no longer unsure her hands past his buckle, there he was long and hot in her hands. He gasped at the sudden contact, sending a shiver running through his form. Gently she stroked the hard flesh through his trousers. Moving up and down its substantial size, using the tips of her nails to tickle along the sides. His eye scrunched and closed against the sensation, wanting no more than to feel her surround him. He could not control the wild bucking of his hips, her warm hands waiting to caress him.  
>"Molly, please!" he almost shouted licking his perfect lips. She smiled as his hips bucked towards her. Slowly, torturously she unzipped him, watching him grind his teeth trying to keep control. She wanted him to lose it, to come apart at her touch. She wanted to be the one to shatter the cold mask he wore. To rip it down, to completely unravel him.<p>

Letting the cloth fall free from his legs, Molly found her assumption to be right. He wore no boxers, commando! Inwardly she smiled. She gasped as his penis sprung free from the confines of his trousers. Sherlock's above average cock stood proud, surrounded by soft dark curls. His hefty member still twitched from her attentions. She had to lick her lips; her mouth had dried so quickly. She knew he would taste so good. Gently she circled the pulsing length; more groans and sighs came from him, making the throbbing between her legs intensify painfully. She could feel her wetness soak her knickers through. His eyes shot open looking to her face in wonder as she stroked him. She could feel him begin to tremble. Keeping her eyes on his she lowered her self. His eyes flew wide as her intentions became clear; with a small pop she opened her mouth.

He couldn't believe his eyes; his Molly knelt before him like a siren. In all his deductions about her, he had never discerned such an alluring temptress. He watches as her mouth popped open. The dawning comprehension of her intent made his breath quicken and his blood to divert from his brain to his groin. He felt her lips ghost over his engorged flesh, teasing it with small kisses. He shuddered at the contact, his eyes rolling in his head. Needing more his hands moved into her thick hair massaging her scalp. Tugging her head on to himself in his need. His brain exploded as she slowly traced him with her tongue allowing his tip past her lips. Her gentle sucking had him bucking further into her mouth. Without warning she took him all the away to the hilt causing a loud shout to come from him. Licking and sucking his length so completely, he could feel the tightening in his sack. She licked away the small drop of pre cum that graced his head. Skillfully lapping him with her tongue tasting him, at the taste she moaned around his member. The sound and vibration driving him on as he joined her thrusting movements. His hips rocking towards the wet heat of her mouth. Looking down on her, he was sure it was the most erotic thing he had ever experienced. The building pleasure was painful in its need. "Molly, I'm close." He growled as he felt her smile around him. "Molly!" he cried out as she quickened her pace. He felt the end draw near, his breathing ragged and his mind a whir of sensation. Sparks of light refracted behind his eyes. His legs shook as the explosion hit, spilling himself into her mouth, she sucked every ounce from him. Swallowing him down.

Standing once more, to hold the shivering form of the worlds sated consulting detective. She kissed him long and hard. Allowing him to taste his climax on her tongue. The heady taste of sex, he tasted like heaven. It felt like a dream, a wonderful dream. Then she heard it a warm chuckle reverberating in her ear. "How, blind have I been Molly?" He rumbled his voice thick and lustful, resting his head on top of hers inhaling her shampoos fruity scent. He moved slightly away from her. Gently taking her face in his hands, tilting the rosy cheeks so he could look in her eyes. "Completely" Her own laughter bubbling up inside her. So there they stood gasping and giggling, exchanging kisses. "Molly, how do we get out? The key still rest down your bosom!" He stated resting a hand over her stomach, rubbing small circles through the material. "Care to help me retrieve it Mr. Holmes?" Molly whispered against his mouth, watching his pupils dilate. He could already feel the growing need to have her rise within him. After all he was still an addict.

More sexy Sherlolly to come.


	15. Chapter 15

Well here we go again. Have deleted my authors not as I hate them. I need to say such a huge thank you for your understanding. It such a comfort reading your words.

**Chapter 19**

Crystal blue flames shone out from the small halo of iris, surrounding his fully dilated pupils, the only indication of the silent war within. Part of him wanted to rip the facade of her costume away, take her against the doors of the morgue, till she begged for release. To completely unleash himself, there would be no soft caresses just burning, consuming passion. He would brand her with his body, envelope himself in her heat. He wanted to nip at her lips, taste her moans in his mouth, to devour every inch. Carnal lust abounds in his blood, focusing his talent on her form. Pupils blown out clear sign of her adoring love for him. A slight tremor in her hands, full of anticipation. The stronger smell of her perfume, her underlying scent, the body producing pheromones to lure him in. The scent had his pulse pick up speed. He could feel the pumping adrenaline. He wanted to tear at her send her burning in to bliss. So new, too much data whizzing through his head making it spin with images. All cumulating in them naked, sweating and coming apart. He knew the mechanics of sex but was at a loss in their application. Having never experienced this himself. His mind however produced enough imagery. Their skin glistening with exertion as he rode her hard and fast. Her nails would rake down his shoulders as she found her pleasure. Her voice would cry out his name in ecstasy. Part of him warned against it, he was not an animal. He wanted to be gentle and explore her. Take in as much detail as he could before the pleasure was too much. His mouth had become so dry and Molly was his only source of water.

Quicker than lightening his hands and mouth were on her. Long musician's fingers running through her hair. The feral look was back in his eyes and she finally understood its meaning. His fierce desire, heat pooled in her stomach heading lower. Her breaths mere gasps. Even before being exposed she could feel her nipples tighten against her bra, she ached to have him touch her. His lips sealed to hers urgent and demanding. Her tongue danced with his, his hands stroking her neck feeling the heat spread through her. His fingers lingered on her pulse and she could feel him smile against her mouth. His hands moved around her waist, when all his activity stilled she could feel him frown. He found no zip to the dress and was faintly puzzled. Moving him slightly back so he could watch, she pulled gently on the gold swath of fabric at her bosom, revealing the small black zip that was hidden. Looking up to his face Molly gasped, a wolf like grin graced his features at the discovery. His long fingers toyed with the small piece of metal before zipping it down so slowly. She could feel the heat of his stare, as every millimeter of skin and lace was revealed. Now looking into his face, she was completely satisfied in her choice of underwear hearing the catch in his breath, watching his eyes bulge wide. Part of her wanted to jump up and down at the reaction. She knew it was silly and the burning intensity of his gaze held her captivated. Her hands were shaking as she attacked his shirt buttons exposing inch after inch of pale taught skin. He was mouth watering, his skin dusted with freckles. Attentively she traced the lines of his chest with her nails, hearing the rumble escape from his lips. She slowed the pace, wanting to explore the flesh of his chest placing chaste kisses along his shoulder to his throat, watching his head tilt slightly back to give her access. Nibbling on the flesh at the crook of his neck caused an ardent response, he pressed against her forcing her into the doors.

The feel of her teeth against the skin of his neck sent electric currents through him. All coherent thought vanished. His hand searched for the ribbons at her back only to be side tracked as Molly ran a sinfully talented tongue over his nipple. It sent a violent tremor through him; never had he experiences such primordial bliss. The sensitive nub hardened into a sensitive peak. Uncontrollable groans spilled from his lips, his length stood proud nudging her stomach. The lace of her corset rubbed his chest sending waves of sensation crashing over him. Brand new corset brought especially for tonight with him in mind. The red and gold theme continued. Then silence, his mind stopped working, a worrying thought and as much as he tried he simply didn't want to deduce. He wanted to feel just this, this with Molly he wasn't apart from the human race, he wasn't alone. He tugged his finger back through the long tresses of her hair, the honey tones sliding like waves. Pulling her head so his mouth could join with hers, stealing her breath away. He felt her grip his arms tightly her head tilting back, gasping his name.

"Sherlock" She gasped, her eyes tight shut in a grimace. "I can't breathe" her hands left his going to her sides her small digits clawing at her bindings as she pants. He pulled his trousers up so quickly it was almost blinding. His hands shoot out around her body.

"Molly!" Sherlock's gaze once more showed his calculating nature, right now he need to remove that damnable corset, so Molly could breathe normally once again. He looked up when the sound of laughter reached his ears. He spied Mary and John grinning stupidly through the morgue windows.

"John! Break the door down. Molly's having trouble breathing." Sherlock yelled to his best friend, tearing the dress from Molly's arms. Not how he had expected this would occur he was sure. Johns smirking face slumped into a concerned and professional look. John squared his shoulders, stood away from the door before ramming into it hard with his shoulder. The door gave with a loud and resounding crash. He went to molly's back, hearing for himself her strained gasping. With that he worked fast unsheathing her from the confines of her corset. To Sherlock's relief Molly breathed easier, the key to the morgue fell with a clatter onto the floor. His hands removed the material from her front exposing the skin of her stomach. What he saw made him curse; the corset binding had left deep imprints in Molly's skin. Twelve horizontal bands marked the expanse of her stomach and back. There in the middle was a perfect imprint of a key. Even the word YALE had imprinted its self into her skin, the vivid colours of trapped blood marked her smoth pale skin.

"Molly" His voice concerned as he traced the lines. Her hands lifted to his face, making him look at her. Giving him her trade mark lop sided grin. She smoothed the creses that ran over his forhead.

"I'm fine." With that she kissed him and he wrapped himself around her. She was cold her frame shivering in his arms. Then there was warmth as her gown was once more wrapped around her. A whistle sounded from behind them, Sherlock didn't even turn to glare at his friend.

"I'm taking Molly back home." He straightened. His cool exterior was again firmly in place. He however caught John's smirk as he clothed Molly in his own cloak, so she would not be embarrassed at her semi nudeness. Leading her out by looping her arm in his, shyly she smile and he knew his Molly was back the shy, strong and heartwarming woman he knew. Inside the now broken cage wandered an small insignificant mouse who so gently curled up to sleep beside the scaly form that resided there. One bright blue reptilian eye watched over the small creature contented for the moment.

**Sorry I couldn't let their first time be in the morgue. It creeped me out, he does have class remember. I hope you enjoyed it.**


	16. Chapter 16

Here we are again dear readers, you will not believe how many times I have re-written this. I hope you enjoy. This is rated M read responsibly.

**chapter20**

With quick impatient steps, he ushered Molly from the room, down the dim corridors and out side. She clung on to his cloak for warmth the swath of fabric curled round her, so not an inch was shown. The moonlight shone brightly casting everything in pearly hues. The light hit her just right; he couldn't tear his eyes from her. Her hair was blown out in the wind fanning the curls over her left shoulder. Her lips plumped from his kisses, the smeared lip gloss shining in the night. The moonbeams bleached her skin to an unearthly, ethereal glow. Her dark eyes as black as midnight, glowed with inner life. Her eyes drank him in, he could feel her gaze on his skin, linger on his lips, caress his cheeks. He lifted his arm to hail a cab, a million delirious thoughts rambled through his brain. Automatically a taxi pulled up as always. He had cleared the owner of the company, of a robbery charge. Sometimes his work gave him certain perks. Being a gentleman he helped Molly to sit, moving the fabric back as her knee flashed out. Just the sight of the creamy skin of her legs brought images to his mind of running his hands along them, his lips, his tongue and his nose. Sherlock sighed to himself. _Hormones._ Now at the age of thirty- six he had to deal with things that should have been dealt with at the age of sixteen. Speaking quietly to the driver, he sat back wondering off into his own thoughts.

Molly's bravado failed her; he had retreated into his mind, leaving her to wallow in uncertainty. She fiddled idly with the hem of his great cloak. She bit her lower lip, clenching the tender flesh between her teeth 'til it pained her. She wanted to talk to him but the mortifying embarrassment of the past minutes choked her into silence. Would he leave her at the flat and return to Baker Street, never to grace her presence again. Maybe he would cruelly dismiss her as he usually did. So many gnawing thoughts, none of which were pleasant. Glancing over to his profiled face, she could practically see the gears working. She cast her eye out into the city, letting her mind escape the burden of her thoughts. Flitting though the heated stares, the passionate kisses and my, those wonderful long dexterous fingers. They had felt heavenly running along her sides, he could in fact circle her waist easily, the stupid corset, really what had she been thinking.

His gaze wondered to her, watching her bite at her lip. The plump flesh paled with the pressure. He was sure she may cut into the skin. His mind jumped to thoughts of biting down on the spot himself. More and more un-gentlemanly thoughts prevailed in his mind; he really should have stayed away from John's lap top. Her tense shoulders belayed her inner turmoil, she was nervous. Slight perspiration was collecting on her brow, worried then. Why was Molly worried? Then it struck, she was waiting for him to revert back, back to shunning her. That however was the last thing on his mind. Once he made up his mind little could sway him, she was his now, they belonged, his Molly and tonight he would claim her. Sliding his long fingers over the seat to surround the hand that rested there. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp and her gaze. Those chocolate eyes asked a million questions. Deciding that the small gesture was not enough he slid himself toward her. Feeling particularly mischievous, he took her mouth, one of his hands feathering across her cheek. Surprisingly he found he enjoyed being free to touch her. Sherlock shocked at his own tenderness, allowed his hand to drop from her. The feel of her lips submitting to his aroused him more than he cared to admit.  
>"Why the corset Molly?" he whispered against her mouth, before sliding his tongue past her lips tasting her, letting his fingers move against her arm. Feeling the fine peachy skin there. Letting his hand sweep under the cloak, hiding his movements from unwanted eyes.<br>"Th. there was only one size for the dress. It was the corset or and elf costume." she giggled against him. He only replied with a hum, having found more interesting things to do with his mouth. He rejoiced in drawing out moans from her, he learned and experimented, she moaned into his mouth as he stroked her inner cheek or pulled back if he surged to far in. Each little movement cataloged for thought later. A wicked idea had formed.

She could barely think his touch drove her to the brink of insanity and back. His mouth was heaven and his smell surrounded her. Oh, how she wanted him, needed him. Those small glimpses of the man under the persona that was the man she loved. The coldness was just a mask, she, silly, mousy Molly Hooper had taken time to worm under. Now she had him and she felt her heart could break with the joy of it. His hands caressed her skin sending waves of pleasure shooting to her core. His hands didn't stop in there journey running higher till this thumb brushed the side of her breast. Sherlock's lips placed kisses along her jaw coming to rest at her ear, his panting breaths made her tremble. He must know the effect he was having on her. What was she thinking, of course he knew and was enjoying every second of it, like the giant child he was.  
>"Now Molly, shall was see how quiet you can be?" The look in his eyes made her gulp, her mind raced and pulse sped, what did he have planned? She felt Sherlock's hand gracefully sweep over her arm, tickling across her breast. She arched involuntarily pushing into his hand as he palmed her small mound. She fit perfectly, his long fingers massaging the firm skin, through the silk. Pulling the top of the cup down to expose her, he palmed her once more, the skin on skin contact unbearable. Her rosy nipples stood out within seconds of his tortuous treatment. Never once allowing his lips to leave her own, his body the perfect shield.<br>"Um, Sherlock." she felt like screaming. At the whisper of his name, he slid one long digit across her peaked nipple. Drawing a long breath she tried to control herself that was soon forgotten as he artfully rolled the tender nub between his thumb and forefinger. A moan was rumbling at the back of her throat and only the thought of the cabbie held it at bay. Suddenly the hand holding her dropped away and a smooth chuckle filled the air, the sound had her glaring and pouting at him. She had never seen him so boyish, smirking, his eyes a brilliant blue and shinning. Soon enough his touch returned, not where it was expected.

Deftly he ran is fingers over her thigh, hearing the catch in her breath was like shot of lust to his groin. He could feel his length pressed against his trousers, every move rubbing him into full arousal. This was Molly's time and he would not be side tracked. Sherlock looked into her shocked eyes with awe. He knew she had never expected this, which made it all the more fun, what was boredom again? Using all the anatomical knowledge he possessed he traced the line of her veins, feeling the blood run through, stopping just above the knee. Drawing his nails back towards her hip, he was rewarded with a hiss. His finger resting at the juncture of her hip and thigh. Lightly he teased the lace of her knickers, while watching her eyes drift shut. The dark lashes resting on red cheeks. "Sherlock please." she pleaded, her voice meek and small.  
>Sherlock felt his gut clench, the need to have her crawled up his insides. Taking a large gulp, he was unsure about proceeding. His fingers however had a mind of there own. Lightly he lifted the scrap of fabric allowing his hand underneath, his calculating mind told him what to expect. Cupping her tender flesh he could feel the moisture there, her folds almost dripping with desire. It was his turn to flush, his high cheek bones colored pink. The animal in him swelled with the knowledge that he had caused this. Stroking one finger against the line of her folds caused her body to arch and her breath to whoosh out in one gust. Her eyes fully dilated, flecks of gold surrounding the deep black, drawing him in. Just as he had decided to continue his exploration a voice rang through the cab.<br>"We're here Mr Holmes. That will be £7.50 sir!" The cabbies smoke scared voice rang out. Sherlock's hand flashed out his long fingers holding a note.  
>"Keep the change." The growl of annoyance laced his voice. Reaching over a bright red, slightly panting pathologist to open her door.<p>

Molly stood her breathing ragged, her heart threatened to pound right out of her chest. She had thought he would take her home, this wasn't home. Staring now at the black front door of 221b Baker Street, had the odd effect of causing her toes to curl. A thrill of excitement coursed through her. She walked slowly towards the door; a shy expectant smile formed itself on her lips. She could feel his heat behind him, she felt like pray for some exotic creature. Disbelief invaded her system; she couldn't believe they were here. Twenty four steps and they were at the door, one long arm stretched over her shoulder, key in hand, his slender forearm gazing along her face, his body pressed to her back. His other arm weaved round her waist pulling her tighter as he opened the door. She found her self spinning in his arms as he turned her into the wall, bringing their lips together.  
>"Now, where were we?" he hummed in her ear.<br>"Deduce?" She teased, biting his lip lightly. The light scrape of teeth against flesh, drew a sinfully raunchy sound from Sherlock's throat. . Dipping with a shocking swiftness, Sherlock lifted her, giggles escaped her as he marched up the stairs, kicking the door to 221b open, his stride leading toward his room.

Fit to burst he lay her on the huge bed covered in purple sheets. Good grief if the shirt wasn't enough, she thought imagine him wrapped up in that. He lay her down with such tenderness, she felt like rare china. She drank in the sight of him. His loose curls bouncing, the rapid rise of his chest, the gleam of his eyes as he surveys her. The thinking stopped as his hand trailed a blaze down from her neck to the knickers. Pulling the lace down till she was bare before him. She felt brazen and overwhelmingly confident as his gaze heated her skin. The bulge protruding inside his trousers let her know he liked what he saw. She watched as his hands roamed her thighs. her breath sharp in her lungs. There wasn't enough oxygen in the room. she felt his fingers slide against her, unable to stay still she wriggled against his lone finger and watched him smirk at her response. Such a boy. His gaze heated as he slid past her folds to the bundle of nerves that sat there. Her body arched a good few centimeters of the bed. Crying in out in shocked ecstasy, she grasped his hand keeping him in place.  
>"oh god, Sherlock!" She watch him take a huge swallow, his Adams apple bobbing. Their eyes locked as he moved his hands against her mound. The pressure inside her mounted, his hands did amazing things as they rolled over her. Circling the nub of her passion, watching all her moves learning her. Tracing her lines, finding all exciting places. The pace slow and tantalizing, working her towards bliss. Just as the pressure hit boiling point, he moved one then two fingers into her, curling, beckoning her to orgasm. Her muscles clamped down on him pulsating with pleasure. She heard him whimper, covered by her own exclamation of bliss, as her inner muscles massaged his fingers with her climax.<p>

Seeing the lust still raging behind his eyes. Molly did the only thing she could think of. Grabbing the waist of his trousers, she all but tore them from his body. Pulling him on top of her, the planes and angles of his chest rubbing against her own caused her already fire burned blood stream to exploded in new and brilliant colors. The friction unbearably sweet a glimpse of what they would be together. For a moment a look of panic and uncertainty cover his features. Slowing down she kissed him, full of all the tenderness in her heart. All the love she held for him. slipping her hands to him she coaxed him into full hardness. his breathing as erratic as her own.  
>"Molly, careful. please i want. ... i will." The thought lost as her hand guided him to her folds. He stilled completely, eyes wild.<br>"Trust me, like you did before. " She smiled at him, kissing the tender place between his ear and neck, enticing a low moan from him. His hips bucked forward till he was encased in her labia but not entering, he rutted against her coating himself in her wetness. He looked into her eyes and what ever he found there caused him to thrust forward, burying himself in her, his head thrown back, black curls spring with his exertion.  
>"ahhh. oohh' she sighed. "oh, Sherlock" emboldened by her cry he began to move. oh my he's big. god he feels good. his face contorted with strain as he fought the urge to speed up. Molly was flying. " More oh. oh please!" she Screamed. "Don't hold back" she said seeing his tortured expression. stroking his face gently as they move together. Something inside Sherlock broke and hip hips went off like pistons, the bed shook violently as their moans mixed together. The head board banged against the wall at each hard thrust. He thrust against her as her squeals hit fever pitch and her muscles clenched around him. His movements stuttered as he came deep within her, Howling out her name. He crashed down beside her there breath returning to normal.<p> 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 21**

The morning sun rose slowly through the hues of London. The clouds were letting in only the slightest rays of light. The ever-changing pink and orange light casting fingers through the curtains of 221B, creeping its way to the figures entwined warmly on the bed. One stray beam of light crossed the bed coming to rest on, long brown hair turning the tresses red. Slowly the light rested over pale lids causing them to open. Molly came abruptly back to herself sitting up almost instantaneously. She was in Sherlock's room in his bed, more startling with the man himself lying next to her. A slow blush made its way up her pale throat, past her chin to cover her entire face. With the memories of last night's events repeating in her mind, untwining herself from his long strong arms she shot from the bed sliding into one of Sherlock's dressing gowns and into the living room. To her surprise she did not wake Sherlock. Nice to know that when he did sleep it was as if he were dead. Molly could not help but giggle at the pun. Part of her wished to jump for joy she had slept with Sherlock Holmes, it was all her dreams come true and yet there was a niggling sensation at the back of her head. What would he make of their night together in the cold light of day? Her thoughts came in a rush as she began her pacing. "HE'S GOING TO HATE ME!" was the main subject of these thoughts "He'll think that it was a mistake, he'll insult me just to make me leave. God what am I going to do now." Tears started to fall, creating streaks in her already smeared make up. Her heart already breaking, it was slow torturous, like an open wound, all her insecurities ripping the hole wider.

This was the sight John Watson came to see as he venture down for breakfast. Obviously the pair had spent the night together, due to Molly's clothes or lack thereof. Molly was in such a state that was sure his idiotic best friend had once again put his foot right in it. "Molly?" He questioned to no reply and so he tried again.

"Molly, are you alright?" Using his most gentle tone he took her by the arms, making her focus on him.

"No I'm not? I've made a terrible mistake and now he's going to hate me for it!" Molly's shoulders sagged, defeat written clearly across her face. John's heart went out to her obviously Sherlock had upset her and when he got the tosser alone he was going to pummel the crap out of him. Did Sherlock not realize that Molly was a wonderful, kind and caring woman and he should be thanking his lucky stars, to have someone like her love him so completely?

"What has he said Molly? I swear to god I'll kick his arse if he's hurt you again!" John opened his mouth to shout for his flat mate. Intent upon his goal to ring the arseholes neck.

"Nothing! He's said nothing he's still asleep but John, we both know what Sherlock's like. He'll delete it, the whole experience. What could he possibly see in me? I'm not sultry like the woman or cunning like Jim there's nothing to hold his interest. He'll grow bored, figure it was a mistake and go back to how he used to treat me. I can't do it John it will kill me." John was stunned he had no idea that this was how Molly saw herself.

"Oh Molly you're so much more than that, the woman was a cruel users and Jim a psychopath. Sherlock has too much of that in his life, he need someone that can ground him." With that John wrapped his arms round her holding her while she sobbed. It was the only comfort he could provide. Words didn't seem to be enough and so he just held her.

It was a short lived comfort as a sleepy but alert voice rang through the air. "MOLLY HOOPER!" The sudden appearance of the overgrown man child caused the pair to jump and separate. The pair turned to see Sherlock glaring at the pair with heated eyes. His face twisted in anger so much so that Molly had to take several steps back. The pair waiting for the venom of Sherlock's acid like tongue. They were not disappointed, his eye shone with flames as he opened his perfect mouth to speak but what was said was absolutely unexpected.

"Miss Hooper don't ever try to predict my thoughts and feelings… Yes John I said feeling please close your mouth. Your deduction skills Molly leave a lot to be desire, you conclusions sketchy at best. The fact of your second guessing my intentions are pitiful at the least. Do you believe I entered into last night's occurrences blind, that I had not understood 100% what this would mean in our relationship. You did not force me, nor coerce me in any way. Have you known me to do anything I have not wished to do? John was completely right for once, the woman though intriguing was repulsive in her manipulation. Jim is best left alone. You are none of them, for you are so much better. Now with that settled I would like to continue with my mornings plan." With that said and the pair openly gaping at him Sherlock strode forward. To stand directly in front of Molly her face to stunned to register the movement. Tenderly Sherlock lifted her chin to close her mouth for her. Placing a soft sweet kiss on her lips, he swept her long hair behind her shoulders

"I was not finished with you" he whispered seductively in her ear, before unceremoniously throwing her over his shoulder. Much to John's amusement and Molly's embarrassment. With a 180 degree turn, Sherlock marched back to his bedroom a red and surprised but happy Molly Hooper swinging behind him. Just as the we're about to enter his room Sherlock raised his free hand and swatted Molly on the backside


	18. Chapter 18

**Hi i'm back thanks for continuing with this story. i know it has been a long time, i won't give you excuses i will finish this story in the next chapter so stay tuned,**

**Chapter 22**

The only sound heard in 211b Baker Street was the slam of Sherlock's bedroom door. The poor thing shuddered at the force. The slam echoed around the tiled wall of the kitchen, leaving John standing in the middle of the room gaping. His mind not quite comprehending the display that had just occurred. While the disturbed dust settled back down on their surfaces, a dawning comprehension fell over his face. For a moment the room was completely still, the sun now blazing through the windows heating the room to a fair temperature. With a short rise and fall on his heel the army Doctor grinned and exited the flat. His step lighter than it had been for some time. He descended the stairs swiftly with joyous excitement, running a rugged hand through his sandy hair. He wondered if he should inform Molly's friend Mary of the new developments. Slowly he closed the black front door, the gold knocker swaying gently with the action. With a sigh John left safe in the knowledge that his dearest friend was cared for. If his step was a little hopeful on his way to Mary's who was to blame him.

The same could not be said for the pair left in the flat. Molly's view was a lovely one Sherlock's tight bum was all her vision could see. How she had longed to pinch it just once. All those times in the lab, when he would bend over giving her a perfect look at the well sculpted area. He teased her with its shape. She often wondered if he did it on purpose bending in such a way, to show his posh derrière off. As the door slammed shut on her only means of escape, _not that she wanted to_. She built the courage to do just what she longed to, with a flick of her wrist she pinched down on the plump flesh earning a yelp of surprise from the stunned detective. She could feel his breathing change become ever so slightly quicker. So he enjoyed that did he and so she pinched the other cheek. Earning yet another yelp and a wiggle of said bottom.

"Feeling adventurous are we Miss Hooper" He growled his baritone almost an octave deeper with his sudden arousal. With a quick jostle on his shoulder one again his hand came down on her bottom, causing a very girly squeal and giggle to leave her lips. Warmth spread across her cheeks, as heat pooled between her thighs. Finally he placed her back on the ground. Standing as she was in her stocking feet the height difference was more than abundant. She barely met his shoulder. The bobbing of Sherlock's Adam's apple meant more to her than a million words. The streaming sunlight filtered through his dark curtains surrounding him in a halo of light. His face a million shades but his gaze. Those deep sea orbs glistened with arousal.

She studied his face as he did hers; his pupil once again engulfed his iris, the thrumming pulse clear through the almost translucent quality of his skin, throbbed in his neck. Never had she thought she could cause this reaction in him. The room around them faded into nothingness. The dark mahogany suite, the wallpaper, the periodic table even the luxurious bed. With the slowest of movements his hands came to rest on either side of her face, drawing her waiting lips toward his own. The kiss was sweet, tender and full of devotion. He may not be good with words around people but he more than made up for it with his actions. Her breath became shallow as her arousal heightened; her hands wove themselves in his soft curls. Tugging and pulling as he moaned her name into her mouth. Their tongues mated and joined in a slow symphony, weaving round one another. Molly trailed kisses over his face listening to his panting breath, short and sharp through his parted red lips. Down his graceful neck she nipped and sucked his pulse point. His low growl rumbled through her. Her hands had a will of their own; scrapping her nails down the well toned flexing muscles of his back causing him to bow. His pelvis stuttered forward his aching member rubbing against her hip. The hard contours of his shaft a tantalizing and welcome response. Every hair on her body rose to attention, his large all encompassing hands roam from her shoulders to the small dip of her back. He splayed his feather light fingers across the top curve of her bum, before delivering his own series of pinches. Her giggles could not be suppressed even against his luscious mouth. The fiery heat of his kiss became unbearable; her pants grew to desperate levels. Her hands wondered the taught planes of his body; she deftly pulled at his shirt till it came free. The silky material caressed him as she slid her delicate fingers underneath. Unlike the rather harried passion on the night previous, they now learned each other. Each searching moment a catalogue of thoughts and feelings long repressed and forgotten.

With swift movemenst Sherlock turned them both so he could sit on the edge of his over large bed, Molly straddled in his lap. She was unable to remain far from him even now. His fingers trailed a long hot path from her neck to her hip. His hard cock an ever present reminder that he wanted this, wanted her. Softly she rocked over him his stuttered gasp and upward thrust confirming his need to have, possess. Sherlock couldn't get enough so it seemed his hand roamed freely coming to rest on her breast. Searchingly he fondled her finding the stiff peaks of her nipples. He smoothed them with his thumbs a soft trembling moan escaped her. The more attention he paid, the more ardent her cries became. He rolled them through his fingers delighting in the moans he brought forth. Only stopping when a sultry moan left Molly's fevered lips.

"Oh Sherlock"

Grinning like the cat that got the cream he lowered his head keep eye contacted with her till he was level with the swollen nub. The intenseness in his eyes cause a flood of arousal to wet her panties her aching core rolling upon his still clothed crotch. Sharply he tugged her top and bra down out of the way. Softly she whimpered the thrum her bra against her pert nipples sending shockwaves down her spine to pool in her stomach. The rush of such sharp treatment caused her to rock against his engorged flesh sending waves of pleasure through him. She waited for the moment he would suck on her, to encase her in the lush lips she had dreamed of. His eyes were now so clouded with lust and pained passion she could not turn away. With a lift of his eyebrow he finally sipped the tender morsel through his pouted lips. The moan she made was indecent to say the least as he feasted on her. Her arousal so painfully acute, molly had little option than to grind down on his heavy length causing a rumbling growl to dance across her nipple. At that moment Sherlock lightly bit down. Molly's hands frantically tugged and pulled on his hair. Gasping they broke apart only to fall back together, hands frantically shedding clothes till both were naked. Lying breathless next to the only man who held her heart truly was a dream come true. Her grin was only matched by his and with a wicked gleam in his eye, tugged her above him. He did not stop there much to her amazement as he slide her upwards. His face now directly beneath her wetness.

"Molly you smell divine, may I?" he asked. As with all things Sherlock never waited for a response. With one long lick he forced his tongue through her glistening lips to the secret of her pleasure. Molly scrambled for the headboard as she cursed above him, her breath labored. Gently he stroked her learned her curves. Gently he sucked her clit into his mouth. Swirling his tongue round and round till the tiny nub was no longer sheathed in it hood. Languidly he tasted her humming his approval, her clit jumping to every swipe of his delicate touch. Licking round the edge of her only to draw the center back into his waiting mouth. He lavished her clit with torturous swipes and long licks. Drawing his tongue against her, the flat licking between her folds, then to tickle her clit with the tip. Sherlock's grip tightened on her waist as she writhed above him, as he thrust his tongue into her undulating channel only to return to her clit once again. Her taste was intoxicating. He itched to be inside her, to seat himself fully. To ride her thrashing into oblivion

Molly cooed and rocked herself against his face. Her mind was empty there was only Sherlock and her love for him left. Sliding first one finger then two into her wet channel sent her spiraling, her mind shattered, her body convulsed over him as he drank her release. She came apart, it felt like a thousand times on his fingers and mouth as he still worked her through. Never had she experienced an orgasm like it. Slowly with quivering limbs did she disengage herself. Sliding down to take in his mused and glinting face. He looked toughly debauched finally coming astride his jumping member. No words were needed as she slid down onto him. Feeling him pushing against her walls. Stretching her she let out a contented sigh, she worked herself upon him. At a maddingly slow pace as she enjoyed the feel of every inch rubbing her. His pelvis stroked her clit enough to keep her clench round him, drawing him deeper with each thrust of his hips. He touched ever sensitive spot inside her causing her to writhe in ecstasy.

He watched her with fascination. Her hair a fanned in the sunlight, her mouth open with a silent plea. His hand tightened bring her more forcefully on to his waiting cock causing her to cry out. He couldn't get enough and it scared him somewhat. The movement of her hips as she rode him the glistening wetness as he watched himself sink into over and over. Her steady weight on him as her hand sought purchase on his chest. The thigh muscles squeezing his sides was too much. He could feel the growing tightness in his sack but was determined to last till Molly came apart once more. His hands once more sought her breasts the soft heady weight resting against his palm. His fingers stroking like a feather across them, causing a rash of goose bumps to break out. The mounds he had once condemned beckoned him to taste them but he resisted instead abruptly sitting, catching Molly as she almost fell. The new position allowed him more control as he thrust up into her a faster, harder pace. Each thrust bouncing them both as he ground against her, the bed groaning as he fucked her. The sound of skin on skin as there fronts brushed together. The heat adding delicious friction to their pebbled nipples as their skin melded. His body hummed and buzzed, then he heard it the quickening breaths the almost sob coming from her. Slowly he slid a hand from her nape between her breasts, down her trim stomach to rest at her slit. With intense precision, he slipped his thumb and finger into her dewy opening rubbing her swollen clit between them. Feeling her quiver around his throbbing penis at his touch was almost enough to bring him over the edge. With one last flick she fell apart riding him hard. Thrusting her wet pussy as hard as she could clamping and releasing him milking him, he shuddered his own orgasm ripping through him. He fountained into her murmuring her name, as she cried his. They stayed joined for what seemed like forever till at last they slid boneless and sleepy into bed. Both exhausted they fell quickly into slumber.

Down on Baker street a shadow figure watched the windows of 221b. A smooth smile flitting across his expression.

"Let the game begin. Revenge is a dish best served cold." With a hop in his step the man walked away.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 23.**

**Here we are, the last chapter. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story. I have loved writing this. More stories will be one their way at some point. I'd like to say thank you to all who have reviewed and followed this story. Your input is greatly appreciated and you all have my love. You are amazing. This is rather a long chapter which will explain a few things. xx**

Silence had descended on 221b, the sun kissed lounge empty. Hues of golden sunlight warmed the brown leather of Sherlock's chair. Creeping gently till the first rays slid onto the tip of his microscope, down to the smooth surface of the table. The warmth of the sun covered the room in sultry heat. Sleeping soundly the two inhabitance of Baker Street curled softly into each other. One more content than he had ever felt before, or even possible. There was a time so long ago that he would have raged and dismissed any and all idea of sentiment. John had change it all brought with him a new appreciation for those closest to the detective. Now there was only peace to the once express train of his mind. Two nights and a day they had not left his room but for the rumbling of a pathologist stomach. He had lost count of the number of times they had been together. Now they were both on the same page, they couldn't leave one another alone. Finally exhaustion had won over and they had fallen into a deep, almost coma like state. Now as he watched Molly rest, a contented smile gracing her lips, he realised what a fool he had been. For years the small creature before him had waited, never giving up hope. Never did she give up on him. She had seen him even before he knew himself. At his drug addled worst and his best.  
>Tenderly he moved a stray tress from her face so he could study her more intently. In repose she radiated homely warmth. When she had become twined with home, he didn't know nor did he care. He had everything catalogued in his mind. A whole new room now devoted to Molly in his bedroom. Never had any of the others appeared in his inner sanctum but there she was lounging on the bed in his mind's eye. Every nuance of her appearance fresh and clear, from her liquid chocolate eyes to the curve of her hip. He could recall all the sounds she made every whispered supplication. Sherlock could still feel her caressing him, bringing him softly over into oblivion. With the freshness of memories just lived, he felt himself stir with a groan he sifted uncomfortably. Lay as he did next to the cause, he realised how sore his member and muscles were. They had been quite energetic. The thought brought his signature smirk to his raw lips. His member wouldn't give up, hard as iron and jumping to every small memory. With a humph he worked his hand down his body, taking the swollen shaft in hand. Tenderly he stroked the silky flesh, pre-cum already beading over the head. Easing his hand down to the base drawing his thumb across the tip. All the time he thought of Molly and the wonder of having her hot moist flesh milking him. Her cry's in his ear, name falling from her lips in a whisper. Sherlock's breath became shallow and his eyes slid shut, he let the images roar over him. Molly riding him, her perfect breasts bouncing above him tantalizingly out of reach. He could feel the sudden tightness in his sac, thinking of her clenching round him screaming his name as she came. "Allow me" Sherlock's eyes flew open, only to see Molly move his hand away and envelop him in her mouth. "Molly" he all but shouted. The feeling of her first gentle suck was almost enough to send him over. Her tongue flicked at him, wringing moans to spill from his lips. Her lips massaging his achingly hard cock. Her tongue dancing across his head swiping his juices from him. His body a prone form under her expertise. Lightly she traced him her hands cupping his balls. Naughtily she teased them rolling the orbs through her fingers, Sherlock's eyes rolled into his skull. Tiny flicks of her talented tongue against his frenulum had him writhing against her. The sounds falling from him were obscene, his long fingers found there way into the sweet tresses of her hair. The more he pulled her on to him the more she took into her mouth, allowing him to enter her throat. She swallowed around him humming her approval. He could feel the edge coming closer, Molly stroked the taught flesh between his balls and bum tenderly. Only to insert her little finger into his hole, causing him to lift from the bed at the sensation and with one long suck he shouted out as he emptied himself down her throat and she drank him down. He was floating all sense of the world dissipated in ecstasy. "God Molly" eyes still shut he felt her move and place a soothing kiss to his mouth. He rested as sweet beaded on his brow, his tremulous control completely shattered. Just as he was to return the kiss, the front door of the flat banged loudly. In one swift motion Sherlock shot from the bed and into his dressing gown. "What the bloody hell." Sherlock exploded; the sound ricocheted around her head. Ducking for cover Molly hid under Sherlock's pillow. His scent clung to the cover bathing her in his essence. The loud bang of his bedroom door almost made her sorry for whom ever was on the other side. Cautiously she poked her head above her hiding place.<p>Sherlock stormed through the kitchen, toward whatever disturbance had graced his home so early in the morning. The flaps of his dressing gown billowed out from him causing formidable shadows to cast across the room. The sunlight blazed through the now open curtain, blinding him, so much so he missed the three people taking up residence on his couch. The tall man sat bolt upright in the corner of the settee his smile almost shark like. This was his chess board and for once all his pieces had lined up, for the most spectacular checkmate he had ever performed. Shrewdly he waited for Sherlock to realise his presence in the room. He wasn't disappointed. Crystal blue eyes found his stormy grey ones. Sherlock's eyes narrowed to slits. The tilt of Sherlock's full lips denoting his anger and annoyance. "Mycroft!" he yelled. "Sherlock! You will not use that tone with you brother and please keep your voice to a respectable level." Chided mother Holmes. Mrs Violet Holmes was not a woman to be crossed. As loving and caring as she was, she was still a very formidable character at least in her son's eyes. Standing at an average height of five foot six, greying dark blonde hair and sharp intelligent blue eye. She was so much the mirror of her youngest son. "Mummy, to what do I owe the pleasure." He answered sarcasm dripping from every word. "Well to get right to the point, Myc has told us you have a new girlfriend and after the disaster you made of your relationship with Christie. Well, we'd at least like to meet this one?" She pleaded. "Who is Christie?" he asked confused, to his memory he couldn't recollect a girl called Christie. There had been a couple of girls during University and the height of his drug use. "Oh, Sherlock surely you remember during Uni, the lovely math major." Violet pleaded. The cogs of Sherlock's mind whirred, while he tried to remember anything about his so called ex. Flashes of blonde hair and green eyes came to mind as she handed over a white substance. Ah yes he recalled his on, off relationship with one of his dealers. The details were sketchy at best and from what he could remember she had not made a distinct impression. It was clear however, that Mycroft had informed his parents of her presence in his life at the time. This little insight added fuel to the fire of their burgeoning relationship. Sherlock then and there vowed his revenge on his brother no matter the cost. "So have you come to give Molly your seal of approval then?" Sherlock answered with a scathing remark. To Sherlock's mind and that of the now pacing dragon in his chest. Molly needed no approval or the indignity of a parade in front of his parents and brother. A low rumbling growl was starting to emit from the jaws of the creature, he wanted Molly all to himself for a while. Just as his mother was about to reply, quite crossly if the look on mummy Holmes face was anything to go by. The door from his bedroom opened and Molly entered.<br>Molly could feel all eyes upon her. The butterflies that had only fluttered before now swarmed around her stomach. She hated all forms of attention from crowds, even small ones. The intense gazes of all the Holmes family were quite unsettling. Only Sherlock's gaze felt different, where interest and assessment were what she felt from the others. Caring and concern shone from his storming eyes. "Hello" she smiled "Mycroft how are you?" she asked, a crimson blush staining her fair cheeks. All she could door was stare at the rug between the couch and table, unable as she was to lift her gaze. Embarrassment flooded through her, were they really here to either approve or disapprove of her. She had heard little of Sherlock's parents but she suspected that they we're quite posh and well off. She caught out of her eye the soft look both parents gave her; she preened a little at their obvious pleased looks. There was a kindness she could sense from the pair so unlike their guarded sons. Molly was able to breath properly once again and reach to hold Sherlock's hand and offer any kind of comfort to the man finding his feet in relationships.  
>Mycroft, for all his planning and scheming against his brother. He never wanted to involve the kind and strong lady of the morgue. He had been quite, quietly taken with the sweet pathologist ever since she had helped with his brother's death. He had witnessed her inner strength, her gallant nobility and high personal morals. To him she was beyond reproach. "Fairing well Miss Hooper." He thinly smiled warmth shining in his eyes, that did not go unseen by the demure creature. Her gaze now fixed on his, a tender smile on her lips. Ah it seemed his brother wasn't the only one she could read. Mycroft's opinion trebled. Though the thought of anyone being able to read him so easily was somewhat disturbing. "Mycroft! It's Doctor Hopper." Sherlock snapped "Hopefully she will soon be, Doctor Holmes?" He asked turning to the woman in question. Molly gasped her eyes as wide as saucer's. The three on the couch just watched on mouth agape. Mycroft's had a sly grin on his face, his triumphant checkmate. "Well on that note I best be off, real work to do. Affairs of state and all." Mycroft said rising to his full height, smug satisfaction streaming from every pore. The exact result he was looking for, if his step was a little lighter as he made his way to the door no one was any the wiser. Suddenly seeing that condescending smirk on his brother's lips, Sherlock knew exactly what his brother had done. How he had orchestrated the whole thing from the ball right down to the corset and costumes. Just as his brother reach the door almost bouncing with glee, Sherlock went to speak only to once again be interrupted by his mother "Oh Myc don't think, due to your brother's happy news. That I have forgotten about you and your Anthea." The change was instantaneous, Mycroft's whole demeanour fell, checkmate and match once again to Mrs Holmes. Sherlock having a sly grin of his own looked once again for the doe eyes of the woman he loved. Only to find them clouded with a sheen of tears. He almost panicked but for the trembling smile on her lips and the small nod of her head. He knew from that moment that things would never be the same again and for once the change didn't scare him.<p>

The end. 


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